


Just A Little Too Much

by vitamindesi



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Bottom Castiel, Character Development, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Eventual Smut, First Time, Fluff, Humor, M/M, Romance, Top Dean, Trauma
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-17
Updated: 2014-02-15
Packaged: 2018-01-04 23:23:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 15
Words: 43,327
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1086899
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vitamindesi/pseuds/vitamindesi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Castiel is shy, quiet, and overwhelmingly attracted to his roommate, Dean Winchester, who he's pretty sure is straight. But what happens when he finds out that exactly the opposite is true? Will he crumble under the idea of this god being available to him finally, or will he finally learn to open up and be okay with closeness? Castiel has a haunting past, something he is always trying to forget, making intimacy a rather difficult challenge. College AU, rating is likely to change</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

To Castiel Novak, Dean Winchester was a god. Hell, maybe he actually was a god. With skin so tan, it was as if the sun had made love to him, and eyes as green as fresh grass in the spring, it didn’t seem too far out of the question. He had a smile that could melt hearts and a flop of dark brown hair that was practically begging to have hands run through it.  
Castiel groaned, scribbling across his notepad, realizing he had, yet again, scrawled Dean’s initials over his notes. Where had his attention span gone?  
“Problem, little bro?” Gabriel materialized out of nowhere, forcing Castiel’s notepad to go leaping out of his hands and sprawling across the room. Gabriel guffawed and sauntered into the kitchen as Castiel grumbled and scooped the papers up, curling back up on the couch. “You do realize you can’t spend your entire semester in my apartment, right? You are going to have to face your roommate eventually. Besides, that shit is expensive.”  
Castiel stared hard at the scribbles across the page, as if he could will them away; or maybe will away his brother. Gabriel didn’t know about Castiel’s unbearably attractive roommate. The roommate with whom he had stuttered out a greeting to on the first day of the semester before locking himself in the bathroom until he was sure he was alone. The roommate that was most likely, definitely, at least a little bit straight. That likely didn’t know how gay Castiel was.  
Castiel cleared his throat. “I know that Gabe. I just...your apartment is….cleaner,” he stammered lamely. That was mostly true, for what it was worth. Gabriel’s apartment was definitely neater and more organized than the room that Castiel shared with Dean Winchester. Underwear was never laying about, his bed was always made, DVD’s always in order. Yes, at his dorm, Castiel never had to worry about falling onto the couch and landing on top of heaps and heaps of candy and their wrappers.  
Win some, lose some, he figured.  
Gabriel snorted. “What, are you living with a neanderthal or something? Just go tell ‘im to pick his shit up man! Go. Now. Get out of my apartment, I’m having company in like ten minutes and you definitely don’t want any part of that.”  
Castiel’s face flushed as he shoved his things into his backpack, heaving it over his shoulder and hurrying out of his brother’s apartment before he could meet the conquest for the week.  
The walk back to campus was spent convincing himself to man up, take charge, speak with confidence. It was his dorm too and he should be able to spend time there too, dammit! He unlocked the door to the dorm and swung it open forcefully, only to have his machismo confidence drain instantly upon finding Dean sprawled across the couch a petite blonde pinning him there.  
She whipped around, bright-eyed and giggling. “Oh my god. You must be Dean’s roommate!”  
Castiel could only stare at her, his bag dangling limply from his hand. Dean noticed his discomfort and sat up, sending the blonde to the floor. “Dammit Jo, he probably thinks we were fucking around or something,” he grumbled, running a hand through his hair. Castiel swallowed. “Joanna Beth Harvelle, meet my elusive roommate, Castiel Novak.”  
Joanna hopped off of the floor, brushing the seat of her pants off and holding out a hand. “Hi there! I’m the only female that can tolerate Dean Winchester’s presence for extended periods of time.” Castiel cautiously shook the hand that she had held out. “Obviously you haven’t even made it that far, considering you’re like never even here?”  
Castiel glanced down, mumbling something about always studying. “The kid’s taking like 16 credits. Nutcase,” Dean piped up from the couch.  
With that, Castiel’s head snapped up with a glare. “I’m sorry I don’t think the minimum is enough,” he snapped, his jaw clenched.  
A flicker of hurt crossed Dean’s face and guilt overwhelms Castiel. He’d never so much as talked to Dean, let alone insult him. Oblivious to the uncommon outburst, Jo giggles, “Oh! Shots fired!”  
Relaxing a little Castiel huffed out a small laugh. “Yeah, yeah, I’ll get him back,” Dean murmured,standing up and stretching. A small coil of heat finds it way to Castiel’s core--at the promise of revenge or the slight sliver of skin that is revealed when Dean’s shirt rides up, he couldn’t tell.  
Jo smirked. “Whatever. I have to get back, I promised some classmates that we could study together for tonight’s test, so.” she shrugged. “See you later. It was nice to meet you Castiel. I hope you’re not really a rude hermit!” With that, she glided out of the dorm, the door slamming behind her, leaving the apartment with an unsettling silence.  
Dean stood there awkwardly, scratching at his neck. A burst of displaced confidence forced Castiel to speak again. “I want you to clean up your side of the room. It’s….displeasing.”  
Dean frowned. “Uh...yeah, sure. That why you’re never around? Am I too much of a slob?” He wasn’t sure where the accusatory tone in his voice had come from, or why he felt so guilty all of a sudden for realizing it.  
Castiel shook his head, walking to their room, Dean following behind him. “It’s not that, it’s just…” Was he going to say it? What was it? “I’m bad at talking to people. Interaction isn’t really my niche.” It was the truth, at least one of them. Castiel had always been the quiet child, especially when next to the rambunctious Gabriel or outgoing Anna. He was the quiet child in the background of everything; he saw it all, without a comment.  
As Castiel reopened his notes on his desk, discarding the scribbled page, Dean began to pick up the disaster on his side. “You know man, that’s cool. You could have just said something at the beginning of the semester,” he shrugged.  
Castiel hunched over his desk, feeling his heart beginning to race at the prolonged interaction. “Yeah, well….I’m just--”  
A hand pressed into his shoulder, causing his whole body to tense and freeze. “Hey man, it’s cool. I don’t mind. Just, thanks for telling me.” Castiel nodded wordlessly at this, swallowing thickly. A companionable silence fell over their room as Dean continued to clean up while Castiel took more notes. His focus wavered repeatedly though, as he continually inhaled Dean’s scent behind him, tuning in on the quiet melodies he was humming under his breath.  
“I have an idea!” Dean burst out suddenly, causing Castiel to throw his pen in the air. He whipped around in his seat, shooting Dean a disdainful glare. Dean only shrugged apologetically at him. “There’s a party tonight. Jo and I are--”  
“No thank you,” Castiel cut him off. Dean jerked back as though he’d just been hit. “I just...I can’t. I need to read two more chapters and start the outline of a paper tonight. I also have a quiz in the morning.” Technically, he didn’t have to start the paper until next week, he’d already studied for his quiz and was more than confident. He was on his second read through of the chapters. Dean looked a little bit put off before turning around back to his bed.  
“Oh. No worries, I got it,” he mumbled. For a split second Castiel felt guilty before the anxiety of having had that conversation overwhelmed him.

********  
For Dean Winchester, the world was spinning. It was the first major party of the semester, he had about five beers in him and a cute brunette nibbling on his neck. The room around him was a hazy blur, bass thudding in his ears, easily confused for his heartbeat now and then.  
“Can’t we get out of here Don,” the girl whined in his ear. Dean winced, shoving her away. Her breath smelled of peach vodka and her bra strap was making its way down her arm. She looked at him, her eyes half-lidded and a small pout evident. “What the hell was that for?”  
Dean squinted at her, watching her blur from two back into one. “It’s Dean, you dumb bitch,” he muttered, pushing himself off of the loveseat, stumbling into a couple behind him. He slurred out what he hoped was an apology before attempting to find the door.  
Jo appeared next to him, startling an odd cry from him. “You okay buddy?”  
“Yeah, yeah, I’m good. Go get lucky, I’m going back to the room.”  
“Do you need an escort…?”  
Dean laughed her off, finally locating the front door and making his escape. The cool autumn air was refreshing on his face, whispering through strands of sweaty hair and cooling his body down. He staggered down the street, laughing at himself, his lack of finesse. What the hell was he thinking? He’d never turned down a lay, no matter what the chick called him.  
So what the hell was his deal now?  
It wasn’t just now though, no matter how much he drunkenly tried to convince himself. It’d been the past few months, since the beginning of summer, for that matter. At another party, on a night that felt a million years away now, Dean had been far drunker than any time he could ever recall. A man had approached him, flirted with him, whispered naughty things and before Dean knew it, they were in the bathroom together and Dean was receiving the best blowjob he’d ever gotten in his life. Afterwards, the mysterious man only stood up, wiped his mouth, winked and disappeared. Dean never saw him again.  
Except in his dreams, both waking and sleeping. But it wasn’t just him. It was other relatively attractive men he may have come across at one point or another. More than once he caught himself jerking off to a husky voice in his imagination and that startled the hell out of him each and every time, yet never killed his boner.  
As the summer dragged on, Dean became less and less interested in women, much to his fear and disdain. He had tried, time and time again to reclaim his high school self, full of cocky confidence that wooed every woman in the vicinity. Time and time again, he failed, either giving up or running away, the condom still tucked neatly in his pocket.  
Dean laughed to himself, a high-pitch distorted sound, as he continued his walk to his dorm. “I’m gay,” he muttered to himself. “I’m fucking gay!” He yelled at the top of his lungs.  
In his dorm, Castiel jolted into wakefulness, swearing that he had heard someone shouting outside. He rolled over restlessly when he heard it again. “ _Gay, gay, gay! I think I like dicks!_ ” Castiel sat up warily. That sounded like…. “ _My name is Dean Winchester and I--_!”  
Oh God. Castiel threw himself out of his bed, throwing a T-shirt on and grabbing his keys before sprinting outside of the apartment. On the front lawn was his roommate, kneeling on the ground, heaving up the contents of his stomach. Castiel winced as there was another wretch before hurrying over.  
“Jesus Christ Dean,” he murmured, pulling his roommate to his feet. “How much did you have to drink?”  
“Man, I don’t even _know_ ,” Dean slurred, laughing. “All I know is that this fucking chick called me Don and, man, I am _done_ with girls. Like, what the fuck--”  
“Dean,” Castiel said carefully. “Shut up, okay?” His voice was quiet, masking the true apprehension behind it. He was met with a confused look and a slight nod. “Let’s go brush your teeth, get you to bed.”  
He nodded again, this time with a thoughtful look on his face. “Yeah. Bed. That sounds great Cas. I think I want to go to bed. No girls for--”  
“Dean,” Castiel repeated, this time a warning was laced through his words. Dean’s jaw snapped shut and they continued their wobbly walk back into the dorm.  
As Castiel tucked his roommate into his respective bed, trashcan by his side, a water bottle tucked under the pillow, he realized how loudly his heart was racing in his chest. He took a deep breath, backing away from Dean and falling back onto his bed. What the hell was he supposed to do in the morning? Pretend the exchange never happened? Confront him? Run away to Zimbabwe?  
He let out a small terrified whimper and pulled the blanket over his head. Across from him, a young Adonis snored lightly while he tortured himself on having just possibly heard said Adonis come out.


	2. Chapter 2

Dean’s mouth felt like a sweaty sock had been shoved in it and his head was throbbing painfully. He tried to move, to relieve the pressure in his skull when his stomach lurched violently. He leaned over on instinct and heaved over the bed, unable to process the surprise he felt when he noticed that he was vomiting into a trash can, rather than onto the floor. He coughed, wiping his mouth, trying to rid the stinging in his eyes.

“Oh good. You’re up,” Castiel said dryly. Dean groaned and looked up to see him leaning against the doorframe in a dark blue sweater and jeans. He held a glass of water and a piece of toast in his hand. “Here. Eat this and keep it down before I give you any drugs for that headache I know you have.” He passed them to Dean, who struggled to sit up, before he picked up the trashcan and left the room. Dean stared after him, unable to figure out if the feeling in his stomach was residual nausea or guilt.

When Castiel came back with a new bag in the can, Dean had mostly finished the toast and was sipping timidly at his water, holding his head with one hand. “How’s your head?” he asked lightly.

“I feel like there’s a leprechaun abusing my corneas with a sledgehammer.”

“Wow, that’s quite a vocabulary you have for a hangover,” Castiel quipped, falling back on his bed to coolly observe Dean, crossing his arms over his chest.

Dean looked down guiltily, tapping his fingers over the glass. “Right. About that. If my memory isn’t as fucked up as it feels….did I come out to you last night?” His voice rose over the last few syllables.

Castiel quirked a curious eyebrow up. “Well, I’m not sure if you absolutely want to call it that? You were very, very intoxicated.”

Dean scrubbed a hand over his face, trying to pinpoint where exactly the heart to heart had begun. “Yeah, but Cas, this thing happened over the summer and I--”

“Everyone has an experimental phase,” Cas blurted, cutting him off. His heart had clenched at the idea of hearing Dean’s realization. He didn’t want to be Dean’s closet buddy, his little confidante. “I mean, there’s no harm in it. Practically everyone I know has had one. Hell, my brother is still in his!” He babbled.

“Yeah, Cas, I get that,” Dean tried to get his story out again. It was coming up his throat, thick as the bile he’d felt earlier, up, up, up; _I’m gay, dammit_! “But I think this thing-”

“Here’s some Advil,” Castiel lurched off of his bed, dropping the tablets onto Dean’s sheet before leaping back. “I’ve got to go to class, and um, then I’ve got a study group, and then I’ve got a shift at the library. Um, I hope you’re feeling better by then, okay?” With that, he left the room, tripping over his feet in his hurry.

Dean sat in his bed, feeling like a kicked puppy, or a child caught with his hand in the cookie jar. Was Castiel homophobic? Did Dean make him uncomfortable? Why the fuck did he run off like Dean had just electrocuted him? He sat there, fingering the tablets on his sheets, trying to figure out the feeling sitting low in his gut.

Hurt. He felt hurt, like he had just been kicked repeatedly, right underneath his ribs, where his heart was throbbing.

With that revelation, he leaned over and puked again.

*********

Castiel was breathing deeply, trying to calm the erratic galupping of his heart as he left the study group to head to the library. He hadn’t heard a word that his classmates had said during the group, too busy trying to talk himself out of believing that Dean might actually be gay.

When he finally reached the library, he stood in front of the desk, unable to recall his employee number for the life of him. It was Balthazar who shook him from his reverie with a squeeze on the shoulder and a loud cry of, “Cassie, are you in la-la-land again?” Which drew irritated glances from their other coworkers.

Castiel jumped, shooting Balthazar a glare of his own as his employee number finally reached his brain. “I’ve been a little bit busy today, Balth. I’ve got a lot on my mind,” he grumbled, turning to the stacks of books waiting to be scanned in and reshelved.

“Oh? Like what?” Balthazar swooped in around him, spinning the chair that Castiel had decided to sit in. “Oh! No, let me guess-you walked in on one of your brother’s escapades again?”

Castiel winced, scanning in a book. “Ew, no. God, Balth, you skip right over normal and get straight to the downright uncomfortable, don’t you?”

Balthazar shrugged, looking bashful before going right back to pestering him. They had been friends since high school, having met during chess club. Castiel had joined looking for another extracurricular, Balthazar was looking for nerdy people to sleep with. The two had finally found each other, both escaping to a corner, unable to grasp the concept of chess or the people who seemed to genuinely enjoy playing it.

They quickly grew closer, with Balthazar sharing every explicit detail of his latest hookup and Castiel shyly pointing out the boys he deemed attractive. For much of their high school career Balthazar attempted to add Castiel to his list of hookups but the first (and only) time that they had kissed, Castiel had shoved him away, spitting and wiping his mouth, crying out that he tasted of whiskey and cheap cigarettes. They didn’t speak for a month after that until Balthazar sent him a text saying that he was two weeks clean from cigarettes.

Their friendship had always been relaxed, filled with a playful banter that would leave Castiel’s cheeks hurting from laughter but now, as Balthazar harassed him, finally realizing that his distraction had something to do with Dean, he couldn’t figure out for the life of him why he had never punched his best friend in the mouth.

Back in their dorm, Dean sullenly nursed his hangover, chewing saltine crackers and chugging gatorade. When Jo pounded loudly on the door, yelling obscenities, he nearly cried, staggering to the door.

“Hey _Dean_ -! Oh my god you look like you just got run over by a truck.” She looked disgusted, giving him a once over, taking in his rumpled sweatpants and sweaty T-shirt. “Jesus Christ you smell like it too.”

Dean sighed, moving so that she could come into the apartment. “Jo, I fucked up,” he finally sighed.

Jo cocked her head at him, throwing herself down on the couch. “What on Earth did you do now? It’s not even midterms yet.”

Dean shook his head, taking another swig of gatorade, steeling himself for what he was about to share with the girl he’d grown up with, fought with, nearly kissed and broken limbs with.

“So, I know this is crazy, and it’s probably going to seem wicked random to you, but I swear I’ve thought about it a lot and--Dammit, Jo I think I might be gay. I mean, at least a little bit gay.”

Jo gawked at him, her eyes wide and disbelieving as she burst into laughter.

*******

Hours later, when Castiel had finally dragged himself back into the dorm, exhausted and high-strung from Balthazar’s poking and prodding. He propped open the fridge before slamming it again in frustration, stomping to the room. Dean was laying in his bed, struggling to read a textbook. He jumped, dropping it on his face when Castiel entered the room.

“Shit man, who pissed in your cereal?”

Castiel met his remark with a glower. “I have no idea what you mean by that phrase. I haven’t even eaten cereal today.”

Dean rolled his eyes, foregoing another comment. Rather than the companionable silence that they had shared the day before, it was now heavy and stifling. He could feel his heart in his throat, remembering the way he’d drunkenly shouted outside of their dorm. He could barely recall blurrily seeing Cas coming rushing out of the building, trying to shush him. Guilt attacked him again and he lurched to his feet.

“Alright Cas. I’ll see you later.”

Castiel whirled, raising a curious eyebrow. “You should probably refrain from drinking again,” he stated flatly.

“Mind your own business dude,” he grumbled, leaving the room.

He found himself sprawled out on Jo’s couch minutes later, with her feeding him shots rather than attempting another conversation. The silence was short-lived. After his third shot of whiskey, she cleared her throat and asked, “So d’you think he’s a homophobe?”

Dean choked, dropping the shot glass. Jo had effectively ruined the small block of time he’d spent actually _not_ thinking about Castiel. He gave her a sour look and sat up a little bit straighter. “I’m not even sure. All I know is that this semester is about to get really fucking weird.”

Jo nodded sympathetically, refilling his shot glass before disappearing into her kitchen.

Dean stared into his shot glass sullenly, feeling the alcohol coursing through his veins, warming his insides. A myriad of emotions were attacking him; confusion, guilt, hurt, and another giant dollop of confusion. The alcohol wasn't helping any of it; if anything, it only heightened the way he was feeling, causing the desire to run from it all to heighten.

He couldn't help but think of his younger brother, Sam, who was home with their adopted uncle Bobby, studying away in his senior year of high school. Their father was locked away in rehab, as far as either of them knew. Communication between the three of them was short and stilted, at best. As the thoughts bombarded him, his guilt only amplified, causing a strange urge to go and do his overdue homework and study, so that he could tell his younger brother how great college was going.

He downed his final shot of whiskey, smacking the little glass onto the table. “I’ll see you later Jo,” he mumbled, leaving her dorm. “Thanks for the pep talk.”

He staggers back to his dorm, enjoying the pleasant buzz behind his eyes that trails down to his fingertips, feeling like lightning in his pores.

He found Castiel lying in his bed, his cell phone in hand, ranting angrily. “ _No_ , Balthazar, I will not bring it up! Do you even understand how awkward this is? I swear, I thought I’d throw up on him and I wasn’t even--oh. Dean. You’re back,” Castiel stared wide-eyed at the hunched form of Dean in the doorway.

“Is there something you need to tell me?”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope that everyone is enjoying this so far!


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter Four is currently in the works. I am in the middle of a weeklong 9-4 winter class until Sunday so please bear with the slow updating! I'm glad you're enjoying it though :)  
> Warning: a little bit of sexy happens, nothing explicit and there is also mention of rape.

The next few weeks of the semester were miserable for Dean Winchester. Granted, he loved the fall; the colors of the changing seasons were amazing, the crunch of leaves always put a smile on his face, and the sunsets were always guaranteed to get him a good lay on a date.

Except that he still hadn’t had one. A date, or a lay, for that matter. Not since that fateful summer day. And now that he’d actually been forced into thinking about it, (drunkenly, at that) it never left his mind. Not only was it all he seemed to think about, he couldn’t even talk to his roommate about that night. Whenever he brought it up, or even tried to, the weirdo gathered all of his things and scurried out of the apartment for several hours, leaving Dean feeling as though he’d just been punched in the gut.

Even when Dean confronted him straight forward, entirely positive that Castiel had just been talking about him, he yelled at Dean about eavesdropping and disrespect, disappearing in a few short moments. Dean, of course, hadn’t noticed the bright red flush in Castiel’s face as he’d left the room.

As always, Sam noticed something was off right away the first time they had hung out. He had been mid-sentence in a story about his latest debate class when he stopped, tilted his head, and asked Dean how he’d been doing lately, and why did he look so far away?

Dean did what he always did when his brother attempted one on one’s, he brushed it off, laughing about a quiz he did poorly on (which was true) and a girl who won’t give him her number (which was definitely untrue, considering he hadn’t even attempted getting a girls number since his very first semester in college). Sam relaxed immediately and dove back into his story. Dean settled into the seat, his hands behind his head, smiling proudly at his babbling little brother.

He spent a lot of time either in his dorm, or in Jo’s. His grades had suddenly shot up, not only confusing his professors, but also Jo and her mother Ellen. He swore Jo to secrecy after he confided in her, still not totally ready to stomach the idea that women were no longer his cup of tea, try as he might.

For Castiel Novak, the next few weeks were no better. He spent as much time as possible working at the library, deciding that if he spent all his time at Gabe’s, there would be questions, and he was as easy to read as an open book. It absolutely was not worth it. He spent some night’s at Balthazar’s, if the man hadn’t brought back some other person to warm his bed. Balthazar being who he was, teasingly asked Castiel several times if he’d like to do the honor. Balthazar learned after only two days that bringing up Dean would lead to an extremely sullen Cas, which he didn’t not have the head, nor heart to put up with, so he kept his banter light and playful, always happy to see Castiel’s eyes light up with his smile. He’d laugh or blush, and then bury himself back in his homework.

Which he was extremely ahead on, considering he refused any free time to allow his mind to wander to his godly roommate. Anna had only called him a few times, making sure that he was receiving his financial aid from her and that he was eating enough and not hiding in his room. (Funny, he thought, because the exact thing I’m hiding from is _in_ my room.) Ash had tried quite a few times to get him to join everyone at a party, and each time, Castiel politely declined, well aware that Ash and Dean were mutual friends and that could only lead to a disaster, he was sure of it.

And so, Castiel remained in Balthazar’s dorm, reading and studying, while Dean harassed Jo, Ash, and Garth, all of them refusing to let him get drunk again, all perfectly content having Dean tucked in next to them, studying away while they played their video games and laughed at one another.

Dean wouldn’t have guessed that it wouldn’t take long to have yet another embarrassing episode. Yet this time, it was far worth than he could have imagined himself.

*^*^*^

It was another party, off campus this time, with as much alcohol as there could be and possibly even more weed. Half-naked girls were weaving in and out of the crowd, occasionally dancing ,sometimes making out with whoever might be around them. For a moment, Dean was hot, and so incredibly attracted to one young woman who was giving him a look. But he looked too long; her pupils weren’t right--she had definitely taken something. In an instant, any feeling of attraction he’d had died. He turned away bitterly, taking another swig of the beer in his hand; unsure of what number he was on by this point in the night. He was soaring past pleasantly buzzed, straight into the land of wasted and he was completely okay with the fact.

As he finished his 180, he found himself chest to chest with another man. There was a sweep of black hair, dark brown eyes and a smile that reminded him of the Cheshire cat. In an instant, hands were on Dean’s hips, and they were grinding.

Admittedly, it was a little hot, and Dean was a little drunk, but he still had half a brain to shout, “Dude, what the fuck?” over the din of the music.

The other man’s smile merely grew wider before he swooped in, right next to Dean’s ear and whispered, “I saw you, you know. Looking around. None of those pretty little things in here caught your eye, now did they?”

Dean clenched his jaw, realizing that his hips were (against his will) moving against this other man’s hips. “They’re all high as kites, man. I don’t roll that way.”

“No, no, of course you don’t,” his voice was so close, right in Dean’s ear, sending a shiver down his spine, wrapping around his core. Hips rolled against hips and Dean couldn’t deny the heat gathering at his core. “You roll the complete...other way, don’t you?”

Granted, if Dean had stopped to think about it, the whole exchange was nine different levels of creepy, but he couldn’t deny the tightness in his jeans, nor the predatory (and quite sexy) smirk on the man’s face.

And that is how Dean Winchester ended up in a bathroom, with his pants down to his ankles and a man’s head between his legs for the second time in his life. When he’d managed to get his eyes rolled out from the top of his head again, he blearily watched the stranger stand up and help zip him up. A gentle kiss was planted on his lips, tinted with the taste of himself, before he was left alone, gripping a shower curtain like his lifeline.

Dean sat down heavily at the edge of the tub, still holding tightly to the curtain, his green eyes wide and bright with confusion, and he whimpered to himself, “ _Jesus Christ, I really am gay.”_

Castiel sat in his dorm, brooding.

Balthazar had finally gotten the balls to bring up Dean, shouting that Castiel needed to do something about it before her made Dean think was a Bible-thumping homophobe. Castiel only shouted back, near tears in his fear of rejection.

“Cas,” Balthazar said gently, his voice low. “Cas, you don’t have to tell the man you’re in love with him or that you want babies with him. Just tell the idiot that you’re gay, tell him what happened to you and I think he’ll get it.”

Castiel scrubbed furiously at his eyes, breathing hard. “Balth...no one knows about that. Not even--”

“I know,” he replied soothingly, rubbing his friend’s back. “You haven’t told your brother. And that’s okay. But you’ve gotta give Dean something to go off of, otherwise he’s going to think you’re even more of a nut than you really are.”

Castiel sniffled, laughing a bit and smacking Balthazar. “Get out of here. I’ve got to clean, we have room inspections tomorrow morning.”

With that, Balthazar leapt up. “Shit, we do? I gotta go!”

Castiel watched his friend rush out of the dorm, chuckling to himself and turning to pick up the little mess that is on his side of the room. A ping from his cell phone distracts him for a moment.

 **Balthy** : _Hey, Cassy be warned, you’ve got a hot drunken mess coming your way._

Castiel froze and paled. He knew that he’d have to talk to Dean eventually, but he was hoping he’d have a little while to prepare himself. He also knew that if Dean was as drunk as he was the last time, there’d be no shutting him up.

That was the last thing he was able to think before Dean stumbled into the dorm. They both stood across from each other in the doorway of their bedroom, staring. “We need to talk,” they said simultaneously.

It was Castiel that tried to backpedal, even though Dean’s brain was begging him to do so. “No, no, maybe not tonight. You’re drunk, again, might I add and I just can’t--”

“Dude I am _not_ fucking drunk,” Dean snapped vehemently, causing Castiel to flinch ever so slightly. “I was, and now I’m not, so we’re having this conversation tonight, right fucking now because I am done.” His voice was dark and angry, laced with fear and irritation.

Defeated, Castiel eased himself back onto his bed, pulling his knees up to his chest, propping his chin on them. “Okay fine. Shoot.”

Dean sighed, relieved to finally have gotten through. “I don’t know what your deal is, but I practically come out to you and you run off like I just killed your cat and then you avoid me for weeks on end like a _pro_ and something tells me you expected this to continue? You were okay with that?” Castiel didn’t respond, only trained his eyes onto his feet guiltily. “Seriously, if you’re homophobic or anything you don’t need to worry about me bringing dude back here at all hours. I mean, I’m still trying to sort this thing out myself, and man, is it--”

“I’m not homophobic,” Castiel murmured into his knees.

“Huh?” Dean stopped short, staring at the boy curled up across from him.

Castiel cleared his throat. “I said, that I am not homophobic. Nowhere near it, as a matter of fact.”

Dean threw his hands in the air. “Then what the fuck is your problem? I’m not coming onto _you_ or anything!”

Castiel swallowed, training his eyes on Dean, who was still sweaty from the party, his blonde hair sticking up at a million angles, his green eyes wide and deep. “I’m gay,” he mumbled. “So I guess that would be my problem.”

Dean’s eyes widened even more, if even possible. He fell back onto his own bed, his head thunking heavily against the wall. “You...you’re... _what_?” In an instant, he was angry, pissed, even, fire shooting through his brains, pulsing throughout him. “What the fuck man? Why the fuck wouldn’t you say anything?”

“You don’t understand Dean, I couldn’t just--”

“Then fucking _make_ me understand, dammit! you could have fucking helped me! Do you even know what the fuck I’ve been going through?” He ran an irritated hand through his hair, turning away from Castiel. “I mean, shit man, I thought- I thought I was fucking crazy, I thought you hated me and I’m stuck with you for a year...and this whole damn time you could’ve--”

“I was raped,” Castiel blurted suddenly. His heart was racing in his ears

Dean’s back straightened, as if hit by a ruler. He slowly turned back to face Castiel, who had his face buried hopelessly in his knees, wishing that he could just disappear after making that confession. “What?” Dean whispered. “What? Cas...oh my god, you should’ve...I’m so sorry. I’ve been--”

“It’s not your fault,” Castiel mumbled. “I just...it’s not something I talk about a lot.”

“I can’t blame you man,” Dean murmured sympathetically. “But what does that have to do with me? Did I scare you? Did I do something wrong?” His voice broke. Staring at the shattered boy sitting in front of him, his heart clenched at the thought of inadvertently causing him some kind of grief.

Castiel quickly shook his head. “No, no, you didn’t do anything.” He looked up at Dean, his eyes shining with unshed tears. “It’s just. He was the first non-family member that I came out to. And he...he gave me something. I didn’t even have the chance to...and then he--”

Dean shot up from his bed, unwilling, not ready at all to hear the rest of the story. Castiel was curled into himself, sobbing all of a sudden and Dean wanted nothing more than to comfort him. All he’d seen of this boy was gentleness (aside from the random outbursts), an overwhelming shyness, and a desire not to upset the lives around him. How could this have happened to him?

Dean clambered into Castiel’s bed, awkwardly looping his arms around him, pulling Castiel to his chest. He stiffened for only a moment, and then crumpled, crying harder as Dean wrapped his arms tighter around him.

Dean could feel his heart beating in his skull, panic in every breath. What just happened? What the ever-loving fuck just happened?


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for hanging in there! This class is taking everything out of me, so I'm hoping this chapter can tide over my hungry readers :)  
> trigger warning: explicit discussion regarding rape. Please please do not read if you fear that this can have a negative effect on your mental health. I love all of my readers, and I want to be sure that everyone is alright.

Dean wasn’t sure how he’d fallen asleep on Castiel’s bed, sitting upright against the concrete wall, Castiel curled up in his lap, snoring slightly, tear-stains invisible in the dull sunlight filter through the window.

He yawned, slowly shifting Castiel off of him and standing stiffly. He watched Castiel curl into himself, relaxed, deeply asleep, and smiled a little bit. It was comforting, really, to know that he didn’t hate Dean for possibly, more than likely being gay. It was shocking though, to find out that Castiel was actually gay. Dean never would have guessed, had everything continued the same way it had been.

His heart sank. He never would have guessed what Castiel had gone through, either. He was so quiet, so withdrawn as though it were his natural state, not because of the result of something so tragic.

In his sleep, Castiel mumbled and pulling the blanket under his chin, rolling over restlessly. Dean huffed out a quiet laugh before turning to take a shower. Maybe his semester would get better, just maybe.

Castiel wriggled in his sleep, slowly feeling himself being pulled into wakefulness, the land of the living. He jolted, gasping, sitting up suddenly, his head spinning from the sudden rush. He was on top of his blankets, the comforter twisted awkwardly around his wrist. That was weird...Castiel never slept on top of his--

_oh._

Castiel swallowed awkwardly, turning a bit to see the door of the bathroom across the hall shut. He’d told Dean last night, at an ungodly hour, about the worst experience of his life. And he had cried. He winced at the thought. His roommate probably thought he was a disgusting crybaby now, a gay crybaby.

_Oh, but wait._

Castiel was now more than 65% sure that Dean was gay. And that Dean had wanted to talk about it. At least, he had before Castiel had begun to cry. Who knew what Dean might want to talk about this morning.

Suddenly, the door to the bathroom swung open and Dean swaggered out whistling, a towel loosely draped around his waist. He noticed Castiel staring at him, wide blue eyes similar to that of a deer caught in headlights. He laughed to himself.

“Mornin’ Cas. Are you feeling a little better this morning?” He was genuinely concerned, unsure if mentioning their talk last night would send him into another fit of tears. It was weird, now that he had thought about it, having a male crying on him, hearing his soft whimpers and feeling his pain. It was weird, having his arms around taut shoulders, rather than a soft body. Weird, but actually quite pleasant.

Castiel continued to stare at Dean, trying desperately not let his eyes wander to the small trail of hair on his stomach and the perfect V shape indenting his hips. He wasn’t sure how to talk to him anymore, now that he knew. “You’re not hungover?” he blurted instead.

Dean shook his head, chuckling. “Surprise, right?” He scrubbed another towel through his hair, temporarily distracting Castiel again as his attention zeroed in on the tight cords of muscle in his arms. “Anyways,” Dean turned and Castiel’s head dropped, focusing on the frayed threads of his blanket. “We still need to talk.”

Castiel’s heart froze in his chest and then kicked back up almost double time. “Um, well, I’m sorry about that, truly--”

Dean waved a hand at him. “Don’t worry about it. We’ll sort it out. Go take a shower, weirdo.”

Castiel clambered out of his bed, awkwardly grabbing his towel and marching to the bathroom. The shower was hot and steamy, providing the much need relief from the stress that was sitting tight in his shoulders and neck. He let out a quiet, relieved groan, breathing in the steam and the scent of Dean’s cologne. Embarrassingly, he felt the beginnings of a boner and quickly shut it down, thinking about Ash and his beer smell and weird mullet.

He wasn’t sure how guilty he should feel because of how quickly that had worked.

When he got out of the shower and dressed, he could smell the scent of breakfast wafting from the kitchen area. A small smile graced his lips; no surprise there. If Dean didn’t have a morning class, making hearty breakfasts was always his favorite thing. He quickly dressed so that he could go see what was on the menu.

Dean was whistling around the kitchen, flipping scrambled eggs onto plates. He shot a grin at Cas and said, “Breakfast is served!” in the same silly way that he did every time he made breakfast for Castiel this semester.

Castiel sat, smiling easily as he took a bite, groaning appreciatively at the melty deliciousness in his mouth. Had his eyes not been shut, he would have seen Dean’s raised eyebrow and the instant brightening of his cheeks before he turned back to the task at hand.

When the two were finished with their meals and discomforting silence settled over the dining area. Castiel curiously rant his hand around the rim of his coffee cup while Dean continued to attempt slurping the rest of the egg yolk off of his plate (it had been clean for a few minutes)

“So,” he choked out, finally satisfied with the cleanliness of his plate. “About last night…”

Castiel sighed sadly, shaking his head. “Dean, you don’t have to--”

“No, Cas. I want to. If I had known…do you want to tell me?”

Castiel sighed heavily, tucking his legs beneath him and closing his eyes. The memory flooded him so quickly, almost snatching his breath from him.

He had met Avery in his freshman year of high school, right when he was on the cusp of coming out to his family. Avery was openly gay, yet still held the embodiment of masculinity; doing karate three nights a week, rowing on the weekends and taking bong hits like a pro. He told Castiel that he could sense his gayness rolling off of him the second he entered the school.

Avery sat with Castiel while he tearily came out to his mother the first day of summer vacation. She only hugged him, sobbing about how she just wanted him to be happy, while Avery beamed at them like a proud mother hen. He told Balthazar next, excitedly sharing the experience as he grinned amusedly at him.

For once in his life, summer vacation went by slowly. He spent it with Avery, drinking expensive coffee and discreetly snapping pictures of cute boys that walked by. Before Castiel realized it, drinking coffee together had morphed into cuddling on the couch during a cartoon marathon, and making out on the doorstep. Balthazar was left in the dust, attempting to spend time with Castiel, only to be informed by his mother that he and Avery were out, yet again.

And then, everything changed, to Castiel, it felt like it happened overnight. Suddenly Avery was pushy; his kindness took a nasty twist. No one had ever taught him about being taken advantage of, no one had thought about it-sweet, quiet Castiel, he couldn’t even find a toe in a bad situation. He continually asked Avery what was wrong, was everything okay at home and _ow_ , that was my _wrist_ , you bastard!

One night, after a particularly bad argument, Castiel came over to Avery’s house, ready to tell him that the way he was treating him wasn’t okay and it needed to stop. What he found, was an elaborate dinner laid out with a bottle of stolen wine from his parents. Avery greeted him with an apologetic smile and a tight hug. “See, dear,” he smiled (which Castiel now believed, in retrospect, to have been an ill-concealed sneer). “I’ve made us dinner. I’ve been a real shmuck the closer we get to the end of the summer, and I’m sorry.”

Castiel was immediately wooed, eagerly sitting down and taking a big gulp of the wine before digging into his plate. After a bite, he gasped sharply. “Avery, why is this cold?” he stared at the lump of mashed potatoes accusingly.

Avery had given him a guilty look. “Oh no! I didn’t know when you would get here, and I was just so excited to have it ready for you and...I’ll just go put it in the microwave really quickly.” As he did that, Castiel hesitantly sipped more of his wine.

That was when he realized something was wrong. Something was so very terribly wrong. He pushed himself back from the table and stood, watching the walls swim agonizingly. He staggered around, trying to find his way back to the door, but it was as if the walls had betrayed him, refusing to stay in one place.

Castiel found himself falling, tumbling to the ground, but a pair of arms caught him. He looked around wildly to find two, no,three Avery’s spinning around him, leering. “No no, little Castiel. You aren’t getting away from me.”

Castiel shivered, opening his eyes, almost surprised to find himself still in the dorm kitchen, with Dean staring helplessly at him. “And then he, well…” his voice was only a whisper, buried in his knees.

Dean’s teeth were clenched so tightly that he was sure they would shatter at any moment. His heart was thudding at an alarming rate, ready to burst forth from his ribcage. Castiel’s voice was shaking, his knuckles white. Dean felt the overwhelming urge to grab those hands and hold them in his own, maybe even kiss them until they stopped shaking.

He shook the thought from his head, overwhelmed by the intensity of it.

Castiel looked at Dean, grinning broadly all of a sudden, leaping up from the table. “Anyways, this was a lively discussion. I’ll help with the dishes. Don’t you have a noon class?”

Dean swallowed, staring at his empty plate, the food suddenly feeling heavy in the pit of his stomach. “Cas…”

Castiel gave Dean a pitying look from the sink. “Dean, please...just. Go to class.”

Jo met Dean halfway to his class, skipping merrily alongside of him. “Hey Dean! How was the party that I know you snuck off to go to?”

Dean sent her a scowl. “It was just fine, you crackhead.”

She snickered. “What, you didn’t find another handsome stranger to suck you off again?” Dean ducked his head and scratched his neck, causing Jo to squeal loud enough that it echoed through the halls of the building. “Oh my _God_ , Dean _Win_ chester! Again? _How_?”

His face was on fire, it had to be. There was no way he was this overbearingly warm without having been set on fire. “Apparently it’s more obvious than I thought,” he mumbled.

They stopped outside of the door to their class and Jo tucked a strand of her hair behind her ear. “Well, you know, wouldn’t most people consider that a good thing?”

Dean couldn’t help but remember Castiel’s words at Jo’s question. _He could sense the gayness rolling off of me the second I came in, he said_. Dean shrugged, hitching his backpack higher. “Yeah, I guess. Most people.” He turned and walked into the classroom, leaving Jo a step or two behind him, wondering why Dean had a look of mild constipation beforehand.

 

^/^^/^/^/^/^

Castiel sat on his bed, struggling to keep his mind on the textbook in his hand. He and Balthazar had a test at two, which neither of them had really proactively studied for, leading to the two hour cram session that they were attempting at now.

Yet his mind refused to focus on the text at hand. All he could think about was the conversation he and Dean had, and the horrified look on his face that grew even more grim as the story progressed. Did he pity him? Did he think less of him now? How was Castiel ever to admit to his crush now?

Balthazar watched the conflict stutter across Castiel’s face over and over again. “Cassy, don’t you think you’re overreacting a bit dear?”

Castiel shot him a dirty look before lowering his head. “I just poured my heart out to the guy and then kicked him out of the room, all the while checking out his ass and daydreaming about it without pants. I’m a little conflicted here Balth.”

His friend chuckled, shaking his head. “You know how to pick ‘em, let me tell you.”

Taking the actual test was no better. Castiel stared at the questions as though they were written in a foreign language. Writing the answers he’d memorized by rote felt a little bit easier. He wasn’t sure how he passed it in and left the class in a zombie-like haze.

Jo appeared right next to him, bumping his shoulder and sending him stumbling away for a moment. He gave her a half-hearted smile, still not saying anything. “How are you Cas-man? Have you gotten better at tolerating Dean’s insufferable presence?”

Castiel stared at his shoes as they walked, blushing darkly. “I...yes. He and I are getting along much better now, thank you for asking.”

Jo nudged him again. “What’s with the sudden shyness? Where did that come from? Are you guys getting along on a….different level?” she waggled her eyebrows suggestively.

“No!” Castiel snapped, his eyes wide and far too innocent. “We’re getting along better. Just...better.”

Jo smiled at him again. “Well, that’s good Cas. I was afraid it was going to be a very awkward year for all of us, considering that Dean and I are near inseparable.”

Castiel laughed, breaking away to head to his dorm. “Yeah,” he called over his shoulder. “Believe me, I’ve noticed!” He shivered at the dark feeling that came up suddenly at the memory of her straddling Dean.

Still feeling too uncomfortable to go back to his room, Dean found himself loitering around the student center, lazily throwing a ball back and forth with some old friends in the bright fall sunlight. Dean was vaguely tuning into the conversation floating around him, yet didn’t have the attention span to actively participate in said conversation. His mind felt as though it had bricks rolling around in it, causing a dull throbbing pain at the base of his skull.

“What about you brotha?” his friend Benny snapped him out of his reverie, and he turned his head, wincing when the pain reverberated behind his ears.

“What about what?”

Benny chuckled, shaking his head. “Ya know man! How many conquests you got so far this semester?”

Dean’s heart seized, a million and one disastrous scenarios running through his head at once. “Uh,” he laughed nervously. “I’m off my game, I think. These classes are really taking it out of me…”

Benny only laughed understandingly, sharing sympathetic looks from the rest of their friends. “We wondered when the almighty Dean Winchester would lay down and admit that his GPA was more important than the size of tits!”

Dean winced and covered it with a knowing wink, throwing the ball to Chuck. “Yeah, yeah, yuk it up. The ladies love this GPA!” With that, he turned and hurriedly made his way back to the dorm.

He found Castiel in their room, face down on his bed, unmoving. “Uh, Cas…?”

Castiel merely raised his head, grunted, and went back to his pillow.

“Uh, well. I was going to invite you to this party with Jo and I off campus, but I see you’re busy dying…”

Castiel rolled over, causing his hair to flop haphazardly over his forehead. He blinked at the light. “Wake me up before you guys leave.”

Dean fell quietly into his desk chair, staring oddly at Castiel. He had been expecting the usual stuttering response that had something to do with his shyness. He’d invited him out of politeness, honestly. He huffed a laugh out under his breath, taking out a textbook and a notebook. The quiet Castiel might actually be capable of being social!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you ever find yourself (or have found yourself) in Castiel's position, please do not hesitate to ask someone for help. This can mean merely telling a friend, or making a trip to your local Planned Parenthood for therapy and other care. No one deserves to go through such an awful thing, but especially not alone.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There is definitely some sexy in here, just warning you.

The party was loud, crowded, and hazy. Dean had about four beers in him and Castiel had just downed his fifth shot, gleefully slamming the glass down on the countertop. They grinned blearily at each other.

“Who knew you had such a party animal in you?!”

Castiel snorted. “That’s what the alcohol is for, otherwise I’d be standing in a corner judging everyone.”

Dean clapped him heavily on the back, laughing, causing him to stumble closer to the counter. “Good job man!” He turned to observe the rest of the party. Bodies were on bodies, reeking of sweat and alcohol, random shrieks and laughter piercing the veil of the music. A few skimpily-clad girls caught Dean’s eye for a moment, but it was the flash of black hair and dark eyes in the corner that did him in. A lick of heat coiled low in his stomach. Thoughtlessly, he grabbed Castiel’s hand and dragged him into the throng of people.

Castiel’s head was spinning and he felt faint when Dean wound their hands together and tugged him into the dancing crowd of bodies. It might have been Nirvana when Dean let go and pulled Castiel to him, moving their hips together. “Dean?” he questioned softly, his mind reeling.

“Just dance Cas! This is a party!”

The music was so loud that Castiel felt it in his bones and behind his eyes. Dean wasn’t looking at him; his eyes were distant, focused over his shoulders, but their hips were together and they were buzzed so all was well. His blood was boiling deliciously, reveling in being so close to Dean.

The man caught Dean’s eye again, winking coyly and leaning against the far wall. He leaned in close to Castiel suddenly, causing him to draw in a breath of surprise. “I’ll be back in a bit, man.” With that, he turned and sauntered away, leaving Castiel alone in the crowd, dancing half-heartedly.

He watched Dean approach a man who leaned in and said something in Dean’s ear. There must have been a response, because a grin split his features and he led Dean away, down the hallway, out of Castiel’s sight.

His stomach sank quickly, almost painfully. He suddenly felt drunker than he wanted to be, the room spinning dangerously around him.

“Hey doll, you look a little lost.” There was a snap of bubblegum. Castiel turned to see a round-faced dark haired girl smiling innocently up at him. “Lose your date?”

“Something like that,” Castiel muttered darkly.

“Well here I am to the rescue!” she reached up, swinging her arms around him and pulled him back into the slow grind of dancing. “I’m Meg by the way. Meg Masters.”

Castiel winced out a small smile. “Alliteration. I like it. Ah, I’m Castiel, but…”

“Yeah I know. You don’t swing my way, do you?” When he didn’t reply, she only continued. “It’s quite obvious, the puppy dog eyes you gave that guy when he ditched you.”

His mouth twisted into a pained frown. “What of it? And who are you to judge me?” his voice came out more frustrated than he’d meant it to.

She only laughed, a light tinkling sound that seemed out of place with the environment. “Oh I’m not judging, dear. Just know, if you ever want to bat for the other team, my bed is open.” she left, dragging her hand down Castiel’s chest, letting it cross his thighs in a dangerous manner before disappearing.

Castiel left the party, spending the better part of the night vomiting in between begging Balthazar to get him more water.

Dean found himself, yet again, being unceremoniously shoved into a bathroom, this strange man kissing down his neck and groping him dangerously. A low keening sound left Dean’s mouth when the man’s hands moved from the front of his jeans.

“You’re so sneaky,” he muttered in Dean’s ear. “You practically reek of machismo and yet you turn into...this, the moment another man gets you hot.”

“P-please,” Dean whimpered, his eyes rolling back, unsure of what, exactly, he was begging for. Though, later, when he let his mind wander back to the incident, he wouldn’t admit that it was a whimper.

“Please what, party boy? You’ll have to elaborate,” the words rolled off of his tongue just as said tongue licked up Dean’s neck, causing a shiver from the base of his spine to the crown of his head.

“You know what,” he groaned, unwilling to really recognize how wrecked his voice really was, unwilling to focus on the wavering balance in his jello-like legs.

A kiss was pressed into the corner of his mouth, a kiss that he desperately tried to chase. “You’ve never done this before, have you party boy?” A hand cupped the front of Dean’s jeans, nimble fingers unzipping them and his hips bucked mindlessly. He shook his head desperately, the hardness in his jeans making him dizzy. “Well you’re in for a wild ride, my friend.”

The violent making out began again, the kind that Dean recognized from each of these escapades. The kind that left him moaning pitifully, on the cusp of begging. The kind that made him maybe, just a little bit, acknowledge how much he truly did get off on being manhandled and bitten shamelessly.

He didn’t realize how much he had focusing on the kissing until a soft hand ran down his shaft, almost causing his knees to buckle. “I need an answer party boy,” he cooed in Dean’s ear, licking the shell of it. “I try to keep these things mutual, I need to know you want it.”

Dean’s eyes opened, meeting the knowing dark eyes staring into his. He licked his lips, swallowing harshly. “Y-yes. God, yes,” he whispered, surrendering entirely.

The feeling of a dick pressed to his own was a shock, to say the very least. Dean jumped as the man wrapped his arm tightly around him, other hand holding their dicks tightly together, precum smearing his fingers as he began a quick and unforgiving rhythm that had both of them rocking their hips erratically, teeth clicking in halfhearted attempts to kiss.

Dean was almost embarrassed at how quickly he went tumbling over the edge. The friction was a new thing, sweet and heady, soft and rough all at once. The other man’s grunts and bitten-back moans turned him on in a way that he didn’t know was possible. He came with a cry turned moan, a few short seconds before the other man.

They leaned against the wall, panting against each other before the man peeled himself away from Dean, and handed him a wad of dampened toilet paper to clean himself up. The blissed out post-orgasm mood was ruined by awkwardly buttoning their jeans up, avoiding eye contact.

“So, party boy,” he said curiously. “How was that?”

Dean swallowed. _Dammit, I thought only girls asked trick questions like that!_ He was out of luck and chose to answer honestly. “Mindblowing.” He received a grin before the man turned to open the bathroom door. “Wait!” Dean jumped all of a sudden. “What the hell is your name, anyways?”

He was met with a movie star grin and a shrug. “My name is Michael.”

When Dean staggered back into the dorm, he fell against the door in surprise when Balthazar rolled over on the couch to stare at him. “What the fuck are you doing here?” he slurred. The drunken and orgasmic high was wearing off, the spins were taunting him, mostly his stomach, causing the uncalled for flip-flopping.

Balthazar snorted, sitting up. “You’re kidding, right?” His playful expression turned dark. “Not only did you invite Cassy out to his first party this year, mind you he hasn’t been in such a highly social setting in ages. But you also fucking ditched him for some hot piece of arse in a bathroom. He called me halfway back here, unable to walk the rest of the way, he was so sick.”

Dean’s stomach twisted. Okay, the nausea was there to stay, he couldn’t deny it now. “I...shit man, I didn’t expect…”

“No, of course you didn’t expect,” Balthazar snapped sourly. “You can never think about anyone but yourself, can you?” Dean only stared dizzily at his shoes, guilt drowning his system. “So keep that in mind, will you? Especially when you go into there because I only _just_ got him to fucking sleep with three melatonin, 4 pepto tablets, half a bottle of pedialyte and a box of tissues. I will _slaughter_ you if you wake him back up.”

The threat hung over Dean’s head as he walked numbly to the bathroom and threw up. He crawled into his bed without undressing, as quietly as he absolutely could. Across from him, Castiel groaned painfully, mumbling incoherently. Guilt chewed at Dean’s insides every time he drifted back into wakefulness and saw Castiel tossing and turning in his own bed.

*>*>*>

Castiel woke the next morning with only a dull headache and a gnawing hunger he’d never felt in his life. He stumbled into the living room, falling on top of Balthazar, waking him from his peaceful sleep. He flailed, almost knocking Castiel onto the floor before settling again.

“How are you feeling big boy?” he asked companionably.

Castiel narrowed his eyes at him. “Oddly enough, not like death.”

“Well you drank at least a quarter of a bottle of pepto bismol and like half the thing of pedialyte so that doesn’t surprise me. You probably shocked your system into sobriety.”

“That is biologically impossible, Balth.”

“Oh shut it. So you aren’t dying. What compelled you to make me think godzilla sat on me before waking up?”

Castiel snickered a bit. “I am hungry and it’s quite unpleasant.”

Balthazar finally sat up properly, rubbing his eyes. “Now if you can biologically explain the post-hangover starving, that’ll shock me. Let’s go harass your brother….but shower first. You smell like sweaty vomit.” Castiel made a face at him before conceding, walking to the shower.

When Dean woke, it was nowhere near as pleasant as Castiel’s experience. His sheets were tangled uselessly around his torso, his clothes sticking to him with a thin sheen of sweat. He could still _smell_ the alcohol wafting off of him, almost causing the bile to rise up uncontrollably in his throat. He swallowed shakily before making his way to the shower.

Dean leaned against the wall, allowing the rhythmic feel of the water hitting his back to ease his nausea and his headache. The night before was a blur, memories of an orgasm and an angry Balthazar coming back to him with shocking clarity. He groaned irritably. Cas had been long gone when he had woken up.

Yet again, the familiarity of the guilt settling low in his gut unsettled him. He couldn’t believe how heartless he’d been the night before. _I’ve done worse_ , he tried to console himself. It was true; his reputation in high school had all of the girls hopelessly chasing after him, and one by one, left them crying on a friend’s shoulder. More than once, he’d gotten punched because of that. But in his eyes, the sex was good and their moans were loud, so it was worth it right?

Regret seemed to be becoming his closest friend. Even then, he disagreed with himself. It was all his father had instilled in he and Sam before disappearing; your masculinity matters, bottom line. And masculinity meant booze, women and raised voices.

In retrospect, it was understandable why his father was in rehab.

With Castiel nowhere in sight, Dean called Sam and made plans for an early dinner, giving the two siblings a chance to catch up. Dean told him about his most difficult courses while Sam sat across from him, rapt, his vegetable wrap nearly untouched. His excitement for college was mostly naive and Dean couldn’t help but find it adorable.

As Sam finally dug into his food, allowing Dean the chance to take a bite of his burger, Sam asked, “so do you have any girlfriends?” causing Dean to inhale a piece of beef, lodging it in his throat for a few panic-inducing moments filled with obscene coughing and gagging. Sam only observed him with a calmly raised eyebrow. “That’s either a truly excited yet or a I-hoped-you-wouldn’t-remind-me, no.”

Dean sneered. “It’s a no, as in none of your frigging business.”

“Dude, chill. It was just a question. I, on the other hand, have met someone stunning, whom I am very excited to talk about.”

Dean only rolled his eyes, carefully taking another bite. “Sure you are Samantha. Tell me all about her.” The sarcasm he felt wasn’t as obvious; inside, he was elated that his brother found someone he talked about so openly.

“Her name is Jessica, she makes to-die-for chocolate chip cookies, she’s allergic to nickel and she told me that she wants two big dogs when she lives on her own.”

^/^/^/^/^/^

When Dean arrived back at dorm, Castiel was still gone and a stifling silence hung everywhere, making his skin crawl uncomfortably. He’d gone most of the day without thinking about what he had done to Cas; what Michael had done to him.

_How could I have been such a dick?_ he thought despairingly, staring at Castiel’s empty bed. It stayed that way until three in the morning rolled around, the door to the dorm slamming open loudly, jostling Dean from his half-asleep position, hastily wiping drool from his chin.

Castiel staggered in, hanging off of Balthazar. Dean’s mouth opened, as though to say something, and then closed again, reeling from confusion.

“God, I didn’t know Gabe could be so much _fun_!”

“And I didn’t know you could consume that much alcohol in one go,” Balthazar muttered under his breath, depositing Castiel onto his bed, where he sat, wide awake, looking around the room like an eager puppy.

Balthazar turned to Dean. “He’s all yours Romeo. Best of luck. I have a test in the morning.” He departed like that, without as much as a goodbye.

Dean threw himself from his bed, reaching for the dangerously teetering form of Castiel. He jerked back, pointing a wobbly finger at Dean. “ _You!_ ” he shouted accusingly. Dean winced, wanting to remind him that quiet hours were still in effect. “ _You_ don’t get to touch me! Get away!” Dean flinched as Castiel turned his back, flopping heavily over. His breathing smoothed out in a few short moments, replaced by halfhearted snores and sniffles.

Dean fell back into his own bed, pulling his sheets up. _How royally can I fuck things up in just one year?_ he thought helplessly. _How fucking royally?_

 


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope this wasn't too delayed! As always, comments and kudos are appreciated, as well as suggestions and thoughts.

Weeks passed as the month bled into November. Dean only saw Castiel in glimpses, if that. He was practically professional at avoiding Dean, and when they did have to interact, the words were short and clipped, lacking any kind of eye contact.

It made him miserable.

He even caught Jo giving him dirty side looks and when confronted about it, she threw her hands in the air and cried, “I don’t know, Dean! You need to fix it!” So he stopped hanging out with Jo and spent all of his time with Ash and Chuck, watching his grades slip dangerously low as they drank and played endless hours of video games.

Castiel may as well have moved in with Gabriel. Every time he came over, his brother accepted him in with open arms, silently curious about what made Castiel decide parties were worth going to all of a sudden. His little brother had always been quiet and shy, even more so during his high school years, mumbling judgemental comments under his breath about his fellow students who had the audacity to come to school hungover.

And now Gabriel was watching him pound back shot after shot, letting out a victory cry afterwards. Needless to say, it was a little bit concerning. But he and his brother had never been very close; that was Anna’s role, it still was. So how was he to voice his concern without coming off as the overly-worried big brother?

Castiel was lounging on Gabriel’s couch, his laptop propped up on his legs as he worked on his midterm paper. He had a throbbing headache, remnants of the hangover he experienced first thing in the morning. Next to him was a large glass of pedialyte mixed with coconut water and cranberry juice, his own personal concoction to get rid of a hangover in time to get to class.

His phone rang, jolting him, almost sending his laptop toppling to the floor. He fumbled for a moment before answering it. “Hey, Anna how are-”

“Castiel Novak, what the fuck do you think you are doing?” her voice was shrill and shaking.

Castiel froze, glancing around him in confusion, tightly holding the phone. “Um, excuse me?”

“I got a call from Gabriel a little while ago. Apparently you’ve been partying your ass off and have even invented your own personal hangover cure? What the hell is going on with you?”

Castiel bit his lip, closing his eyes. “Things are rather shitty for me right now Anna. It’s just to take the edge off, get me through midterms, you know?”

“No, I don’t know,” she snapped vehemently. “What’s so shitty that you decided to be an alcoholic for a semester? You didn’t even used to like champagne!”

“There’s just a lot going on. It’s hard to juggle.”

Anna sighed. “Like what, Castiel? Please talk to me, we haven’t talked in ages. I miss you. Is it a boy?”

“Kind of...he’s my roommate. He’s got this smile that...jeez Anna, it could light up a city. He’s gorgeous. He’s also a bit of an asshole.” he let out a small laugh, just now allowing himself to acknowledge how in over his head he truly was.

Anna laughed with him. “I’m guessing he’s straight.”

“He’s actually not,” Castiel blurted, sitting a little straighter. “He’s just...extremely confused. And I think he wants me to fix that. But...I can’t. Not after being ditched at a party for some other guy.”

Anna gasped. “What the hell? Why would he do that? Kick his ass!”

After the conversation with his sister, Castiel felt a little lighter. His headache was gone; empowerment was flowing through him. He was going to kick Dean’s ass for treating him that way, tell him that just because he was confused, that didn’t mean that Castiel was his little toy.

He packed up his things, yelling a thanks to Gabriel for letting him crash on his couch yet again. As Gabriel watched his younger brother trek back to the campus, he could only hope that he had done the right thing.

Dean was lounging on the couch, attempting to study for a test the next day. He felt like he had barely slept the night before, jolting awake every couple of hours, only to drift back into another fitful sleep.

Just as he began to nod off for the third time that afternoon, the door swung open and he looked up in surprise to see Castiel walking in as though he hadn’t been gone for the last two days. He lurched up from the couch, knocking the textbook to the floor. “Cas! Hey Cas where have you-”

Castiel merely turned on his heel, walking down the short hallway to their room to throw his bag on his desk. He scrubbed his hands over his face. At seeing Dean for the first time in days, his heart had begun to race unbearably. Unfortunately, Dean had followed him. He stood in the doorway while Castiel stared at his backpack, wishing to disappear.

“Cas, man, you okay?” hiss voice was low, his body bowing towards Castiel out of concern.

And just like that he was angry; _fuming_. He whirled around. “How _dare_ you, Dean Winchester? How fucking dare you? Being gay is not a T-shirt that you can try on and take off when you decide it doesn’t fit you right. I refuse to be that T-shirt for you, okay?” his hands were shaking, clenched tight into fists at his side.

Dean blanched. “Cas, I never meant…”

Castiel sighed, deflating. “Yes Dean, I know that. That’s exactly wherein lies your problem. When you’ve figured it out, we’ll talk again.”

Dean floundered, realizing that the feeling in the pit of his stomach was despair and he couldn’t for the life of him figure out what it was doing there. “Dude, what? We live together, how are you gonna pull that off?”

Castiel fixed him with a blank look. “The same way I did earlier this year. Thanksgiving break is also in two weeks. Not too difficult.” The look on Dean’s face almost broke his heart in two, a perfect frown creased inwards and all he wanted to do was kiss it away. Instead, he straightened, swapping the laptop in his backpack for his textbooks. “Like I said, I refuse to be your gay T-shirt.”

Dean was left in their bedroom, staring sadly at the wall over his bed. His mind raced to Michael, wondering if he attended yet another party if he’d see the mysterious man again. He shook the thought away, clenching his teeth. He couldn’t. Not when he had friendships at stake.

An hour later, he found himself curled up in Jo’s dorm after having been informed that her roommate Charlie was off on a date. Jo had wrapped a blanket around him, handed him a pint of cookie dough ice cream and put Die Hard in the DVD player. No words passed between the two of them until the credits began to roll.

“So what now?” Jo finally asked. “That was my last pity pint so you’re gonna have to buy me more.”

Dean swallowed, staring at the bottom of the pint of ice cream, amazing that he was even still hungry after having eaten all of that. “I think I should come out to my brother.”

Jo sat up even straighter. “Really? When? Do you want me to come with you?”

He shook his head, his eyes still glued to the now blank television. “No. This is something...I’ve got to do this myself. Tonight.”

Jo grabbed his face, yanking it around so she could see him. “Dean. Are you sure? You can’t go backwards from here.”

Dean bit his lip and Castiel’s words rang loudly in his head. _Being gay is not a T-shirt that you can try on and take off when you decide it doesn’t fit you right._ “Yeah Jo, I’m sure. Besides, I’m pretty sure Sammy’s been guessing since we were teenagers. Remember the crush I had on Benny?” A half-hearted smile graced his face, but Jo only growled under her breath.

“Yeah, until your dad called you a faggot and you didn’t leave your house for a week and a half. We all thought you were dead." her voice was bitter, memories weighing on her consciousness.

Dean’s teeth clenched. “I’ll be okay Jo,” he insisted. “Thanks for the ice cream.”

Outside, the air was chilly with a slight breeze, causing the leaves around Dean’s feet to shuffle around him. The sun was setting, casting a purple glow to the air around him. He made a quick phone call to Sam, convincing him to meet at the Roadhouse for a quick dinner. Whether his heart was racing from nervousness or the quick pace he had picked up halfway off the campus, he couldn’t figure it out.

/*/*/*/*/*

“Gabriel, why the hell wouldn’t you tell me?” Castiel cried, exasperated.

Gabriel threw his arms in the air, turning from Castiel to root through his sugar drawer, extracting a fun size pack of Skittles, popping a few in his mouth before speaking around them, “I knew you’d say no and I swear you haven’t been on a date since high school! College is the perfect time to go man-fishing!”

“What does that even _mean_?”

Gabriel fixed him with a hard stare, one that he hadn’t seen since the last time he’d acted out as a child. “It means that I’m fucking worried about you, doofus. Since when have you been a partier? I can’t tell you how sickening it is to see you grinding up different guys every time I see you at a party.” For a moment, Castiel wanted to protest, but his jaw snapped shut when he realized he barely remembered many of the parties. The only evidence that he was even attending parties was the ever growing pile of pedialtye bottles in his dorm and open packages of pepto bismol. “You’re going to dress decently, go out on a decent date, and then come back and tell me all about over a pint of Ben and Jerry’s.”

“Gabriel-”

“Your clothes are in my bathroom. Your date will be here in roughly forty-five minutes, chop chop!”

Castiel slunk his way to Gabriel’s bathroom, unsure if what he was feeling was guilt or shame. It was quite possible that it was a combination of the two.

He dressed himself in the slacks that Gabriel had laid out, tucking in the clean white T-shirt before shrugging the blue button-up over his shoulders. For a few seconds, he attempted to get his unruly black hair to cooperate with him and then gave up. He quickly ran a toothbrush over his teeth and splashed some water onto his face. As he looked into the mirror, he recognized the blatant fear across his face. Gabriel was more than right--he hadn’t gone on a single date since Avery. Quite frankly, he hadn’t wanted to. It took years to just stop looking at every man as a potential predator.

“Cas, he’s in the driveway! Hurry up! hurry!” Gabriel yelped from the living room. Castiel walked out to find him bouncing around the room like a crazed rabbit. When Gabriel saw his face, he stopped. “Damn Cas, you look like someone just ran over your dog. His name is Luke and you need to smile so you don’t scare him away.”

When it came down to it, Luke was sweet. He took Castiel to a little local restaurant where they chatted amiably over breadsticks, a salad and steak.

“So what was it that you’re majoring in?” He asked between bites.

Castiel hastily swallowed what he was chewing before he said, “I’m a business major with a minor in writing. And yourself?”

“Oh I got my bachelor’s degree in biology this spring. I’m taking a year off to see the world before I leap back into the fire!” Luke chuckled.

That was how the conversation went, typical questions tossed back and forth between the two of them as they ate. Castiel could see what made him so charming. He had an easy smile and bright brown eyes that remained rapt on Castiel every time he spoke. He came from affluence, and had a family behind him to support his every decision with wads of cash and encouragement. Castiel could relate to nine of that, shifting uncomfortably and poking at his steak until Luke wised up and changed the topic.

Castiel smiled inwardly, happy that he was able to sit across from a possible suitor without flashbacks running in circles around him. It was comfortable and friendly, allowing him to ease back in his seat and laugh at the cheesy biology jokes that Luke was full of.

Luke insisted that he pay, so Castiel sat wordlessly, embarrassed on the other side of the booth as Luke handed their waiter his shiny Visa card.

As they stepped out of the restaurant, Castiel tightened his jacket around him. He turned to Luke, about to open his mouth to say thank you when Luke grabbed his hand, a gleaming smile across his face. "I want to show you something pretty cool," he insisted.

Castiel shook his head, smiling mildly. "I need to get back to school, Luke. I have a paper that I'd like to finish before vacation." Deep down, he could feel the beginnings of panic licking traitorously at his insides.

Luke's head tilted, a vision of pity and understanding. "I get you Castiel, I truly do. But this is so amazing. It's just a short walk away."

"No thank you," he repeated, gently tugging at his hand that was still caught tightly in Luke's grasp.

"Are you sure? It’s really quick!” Luke’s hand remained wrapped tightly around Castiel’s and he began slowly tugging at him again.

_“Come on! It’s right over here and I’ll bring you home; I swear you’ll love it…."_

“Yes, I’m fucking sure!” Castiel yelled suddenly, wrenching his hand from Luke’s before turning and sprinting away like a mad man. Luke stood there, shocked, watching the receding form of Castiel.

Dean was more or less shocked when Castiel burst through the door of their dorm, dressed in his Sunday best and threw himself down on his bed. He was alternately hyperventilating and sobbing, curled into himself in the very corner of his bed.

“Cas?” Dean tentatively stepped towards his bed, trying not to freak out, to worry. “Cas, you okay man?”

He took another small step forward and could hear Castiel murmuring, “No, no, no, no,” under his breath. He reached forward and laid a gentle hand on Castiel’s arm. He jerked up and swung a right hook directly into Dean’s face causing a burst of light and pain right below his eye. _“No, no, no! Don’t touch me! I hate you!”_ His eyes were wild and distant, and that’s when Dean realized--he wasn’t there, not at all.

“Cas, stop!” he yelled, moving closer to the side of the bed, still not touching him again.

Castiel was cowering in the corner of his bed now, cradling his head in his hands. “No, please don’t, not again…” he whimpered.

Dean moved closer to him, as close as he dared. “Castiel,” he said firmly. “He isn’t here. It’s me, it’s Dean. You’re safe Cas.”

Suddenly Castiel reached out, grabbing Dean’s face in his hands. He held very still, staring into the bright, frightened orbs of blue. Recognition flickered across his face. “Oh my God,” he whispered. “Dean, I am so sorry. God, what happened…” he hiccuped, and collapsed into tears again.

Some foreign instinct took over and Dean found himself crawling into bed with Castiel, wrapping his arms protectively around him, pulling him closer. He ran his hands through his hair, shushing him softly. “Shh, you’re okay. You’re safe,” he repeated.

Dean wasn’t sure how long he sat there, gently cradling Castiel to him, murmuring to him, calming him. In enough time though, Castiel was sound asleep, curled in the loop of Dean’s arms, his face pressed into his neck.

Dean laid there, unmoving, unwilling to sleep. His mind was racing, trying to figure out how he could possibly help Castiel, if he even could at all. After all, Dean was far too well-acquainted with PTSD already.


	7. Chapter 7

Castiel woke slowly, groaning as he stretched himself out, his joints popping in protest. He froze suddenly though, when his back connected with a very solid form that was not his wall.

“Good morning sleeping beauty,” the voice from behind him rumbled.

Castiel flailed, feeling his body tip over the edge of the bed. An arm shot out, wrapping around his hips and yanked him back onto the bed. He rolled over to find himself face to face with his roommate. He laid still as a statue, staring into Dean’s playfully gleaming green eyes. “Um,” he croaked, unsure of how to continue.

Seemingly against his will, his hand reached out and thumbed gently across the bruise on the left side of Deans face, curving underneath his eye. He winced under the gentle touch and brushed it off with a small smile. “You’ve got a mean right hook, Cas,” he muttered.

Castiel tucked his hand back underneath him. “Dean, I am so sorry. I don’t even know what came over me-”

“Yes, you do,” Dean cut him off, his voice dark. He guiltily met Dean’s eyes. “What brought on the flashback?”

Castiel scooted back on his bed, further away from Dean, as if he had just now realized they had shared the bed the night before. “Gabriel set up a blind date for me…”

Dean lurched up, nearly knocking Castiel to the floor. “What the fuck did he do?” the threat in Dean’s voice sent a tingle down his spine that he knew was inappropriate, but he’d be damned if he didn’t care.

Castiel scrambled into a sitting position before replying, “it wasn’t really anything.” At Dean’s following glare, he continued, “Honestly. He was just….pushy. And, and it made me think of Avery and I remembered something he had done...I don’t remember anything after I ran away from him.”

Dean’s jaw dropped. “You _ran_ here? From where?” When Castiel told him, Dean’s shock only grew. “Castiel, you’re telling me that you had a flashback, blacked out and ran three and a half miles back here?”

“And punched you in the face,” he offered, smiling meekly.

“And you don’t remember any of it?” Dean asked incredulously.

Castiel shook his head, staring at his hands folded neatly in his lap. “I...I came to, when I was grabbing your face. That’s when...I knew it...it had happened again.”

Dean wasn’t quite sure where to go from there. How could he tell the guy to just go and see a therapist? He’d done it to Sam but Castiel….Castiel was _not_ his brother. Could he concede to his pride and tell him he understood on another level, and that he wanted to help him?

Instead, Dean sat up straighter, detangling his legs from Castiel’s blankets to lean back against the wall. “I think I owe you an apology,” he said lowly. When Castiel said nothing, he boldly continued. “You’re not my ‘gay T-shirt’. That guy at the party….well. That wasn’t really the first time that kind of thing has happened.” He met Castiel’s look of confusion with a small chuckle. “Yeah, see, that’s how this whole gay freak out thing began.”

He explained his bad (or possibly good) luck at party scenes, causing Castiel to double over with laughter, bunching the blankets up beneath him. On instinct, Dean itched to punch him lightly in the shoulder, as he did with all of his good buddies, and instead just shook his head, a wry smile on his lips.

“Anyways, alcohol kind of lowers my inhibition and….” _and Cas, you were hot as fuck and I freaked out and ran off with him instead._ “And I didn’t think. It wasn’t fair to do that to you, man.”

Castiel settled his hand on Dean’s shoulder, bright blue eyes meeting with soft green ones. “It’s okay, Dean. I forgive you.”

Their eye contact held...and held...and Dean felt himself heating up uncomfortably. He lurched off of the bed, pulling at his shirt. “Anyways. Shower, food, and then hell-I mean class.” he laughed stiffly, sifting through his dresser before heading towards the bathroom.

Castiel sat cross-legged on his bed, staring absently at the doorway Dean had just walked through. His mind was spinning, trying to comprehend what just happened. Staring at him now, he had watched something shift in Dean’s eyes. It was subtle, possibly not even there, but Castiel could have sworn that Dean’s eyes held possibly the smallest traces of lust.

_For him._

Dean rested his forehead against the wall in the shower, letting the water run in rivulets over his back. What the hell happened back there? He’d fallen asleep spooning Castiel to him, something that neither of them bothered to acknowledge and then...that look. What the hell was that look?

A shiver ran down his spine and he was more than shocked to feel the heat pooling low in his belly. “You _just_ came out,” he muttered to himself. “Down boy.”

His conversation with Sam the previous night was barely even a blip in the back of his mind. Of course Sam had been immediately suspicious when Dean had called him, considering that he was always the one forcing Dean to hang out with him every time that they did.

When they both had sat down at the table, Sam immediately leaned forward, his eyes wide and concerned. “Did something happen? Are you failing? Did you knock someone up?” the words shot out of his mouth breathlessly.

Dean choked out a laugh. “Christ, Sammy, calm down!” he rolled his eyes. Of course, school and babies were Sam’s first worries. “No, my grades are just fine and I definitely have not gotten anyone pregnant.”

Sam drew back, his eyebrows furrowed. “Then what…?”

“Remember that crush I had on Benny,” Dean blurted. He regretted not having anything rehearsed before coming here.

Sam nodded slowly, confused. “Yeah...I also remember dad finding out about it and-”

Just as his eyes began to get far away again, Dean cut him off. “Yeah. Well. I shouldn’t have listened to dad.”

If anything, Sam was only more confused. “So...you have a crush...on Benny?” he asked slowly, unsure of how to tread on the subject.

Dean snorted. “No. No, I don’t have a crush on Benny. But...I think I had the right idea, back then.”

Sam stretched his neck out, raising a dubious eyebrow at his brother. “Dean, is this your way of telling me that you’re gay? Because I swear to God, you could not have complicated it anymore than you just did.”

Dean laughed nervously, palming his jeans. “Yeah, well. I mean, how do you just come out and say that? After being the kind of guy I’ve been?”

Sam’s eyebrow raised impossibly higher. “You just...come out and say it, maybe?” he suggested.

Dean only grunted. “Well, I’m sorry I’m not good at all this touchy-feely shit Sammy. Give a guy some credit.”

Dean finally pulled himself off of the wall of the shower, chuckling at Sam’s response. He couldn’t have been any more relaxed if he’d tried. Apparently, it was far more obvious than Dean had imagined.

When Dean came back into the room with a towel draped loosely around his waist, Castiel was sitting up in his bed, on the phone. “No, Gabriel, it just didn’t work right...yeah, he was really overdramatic...I probably just pissed him off...yeah, I get it, I said I was _sorry._ ” He angrily jabbed the screen of his phone, ending the call.

He looked up to see Dean standing in the doorway. “Sorry about that,” he muttered. “Brother...the whole blind date thing,”

“Ah,” Dean replied, walking over to his closet.

Castiel sat stiffly in his bed, watching the muscles ripple below Dean’s skin as he dug through his clothes. His eyes followed a droplet of water down his spine, over his tailbone before it dipped below the towel. He swallowed thickly, sucking in a shaky breath. Just like that, even after the awkward conversation they’d just had, his dick was up and at attention. He shifted, leaping off of the bed, wincing. Without saying another word to Dean, he grabbed his towel and scrambled to get into the bathroom before Dean saw what his rush was.

He sat on the shower floor, telling himself no over and over again until the blood finally came back to brain.

The rest of the day for Castiel was spent talking himself down, telling himself that Dean was _not_ attracted to him and that he only stayed in bed with him out of concern, nothing more than friendly concern.

At least, that’s what he was telling himself when he opened the door to the dorm and ran chest first into Dean. He was greeted with a grin and Dean’s fingers wrapping gently around his elbow. “Perfect! I was just about to go and look for you. There’s someone I think you should meet.”

Castiel stared at Dean’s hand for a moment before stumbling after him. “Dean, I haven’t even put my books away, and my scarf-”

“Don’t worry, it’s only a ten minute walk.”

Castiel hiked his backpack up and slowly extracted his arm from Dean’s grasp. The movement went unnoticed, or ignored and the walk to their destination was in a companionable silence.

When they reached the house, Dean had his fist poised to know when the door swung open and a large black woman reached forward and grabbed him in a bone-crushing hug. “Dean!” she sang loudly. “How are you? I’m so glad you made it! I just brewed us some hot tea, and there’s cookies ready for you.” she shoved him into the house and grasped Castiel’s forearms, holding him at a distance. “And you must be Castiel. How are you dear? Much better, am I right?”

Unable to respond, Castiel allowed himself to be hugged and then herded into the living room. “I’m Missouri Moseley. I keep an eye on Mr. Winchester here,” she gave Dean a fond smile and Dean looked away, the bashful look on his face foreign.

Castiel only raised an eyebrow. “Fine job you did there,” he muttered sarcastically.

Missouri only laughed, full and hearty. “Boy,” she addressed Dean. “Go take a look at my little car. She’s a’sputtering these days. Lemme talk to your friend here.”

Dean took his dismissal politely and left the room without another word. “Uh, listen...Ms. Moseley. I don’t know why Dean brought me here, but…”

“Oh, honey,” Missouri gave him a sympathetic once-over. “I know exactly why he brought you here. Have some tea. You have trauma written all over you.”

Castiel coughed, choking on the sip of tea he had just taken. Missouri only sat there, observing him solemnly. “Excuse me?” he spluttered, wiping his mouth. “What the hell are you talking about?”

“You know exactly what I’m talking about.”

“Did he tell you?” he gasped, his heart charging through his chest, a sudden anger rising within him.

“He didn’t tell me nothin’.” Castiel stared hard at her. “Come on boy, you can figure it out.”

He blinked. “You, you’re…” he couldn’t finish his sentence.

“I certainly am. I knew Dean would come to me again soon, I just didn’t know why. I saw you with him, and I didn’t know why. I’ve met you, and now I definitely see why.”

“I don’t,” Castiel muttered, staring at the cookie platter. The lie rolled off of his tongue easily and Missouri didn’t acknowledge it. She only shifted more comfortably in her chair, crossing her arms to level her gaze at him. “Okay, okay, I do know why. But...I don’t know why he’d care.”

“Boy, I oughta go over there and smack you. Are you truly that blind?”

Castiel stared guiltily at his hands. “I don’t know what he’d see in me. He’s practically a god,” he snorted.

Missouri only shook her head sadly. “You’ve got the universe in your soul, honey. He sees that. And someone tried to take that from you.” Castiel’s breath hitched at her words, and he shakily took another sip of his tea. “It’s not easy, is it?”

“Not at all,” he whispered, staring at his cup. “If it’s not one thing...it’s always another. If it isn’t nightmares, it’s flashbacks, or blackouts, or meltdowns. I can’t win, Missouri.”

“Oh hon,” she reached out, placed a gentle hand over his. He looked up, meeting her dark eyes. “You can win, I promise you that. It’ll take some more time, though.”

Castiel choked on the sob that had been building in his throat. “Time, it’s always time, isn’t it?” she nodded sadly. “I just want to forget it,” he whispered weakly.

Missouri didn’t reply for a long time. She only sat there, holding tightly to his hand, her eyes far away. When she spoke again, a small smile had graced her face. “Dean’s just about finished up. Listen Castiel, Cas. You need to make the first move. That boy out there is just as chicken as they come.”

Castiel frowned. “What? What do you mean?”

Her smile grew. “You know. And maybe if you’re lucky, you’ll get a kiss soon enough. He can’t save you honey, but he can do other things.”

Castiel’s eyes widened and his mouth opened to respond when Dean stomped back into the house. “Your girl is fine!” he called, his mouth full of cookies. “Your radiator is a bit rattly, that’s all.”

“Hm,” Missouri murmured, still smiling, still staring knowingly at Castiel.

“Ready to go Cas? I told Jo we’d meet her in the dining hall for dinner.”

“Yeah Dean, I’m-”

Missouri pulled him into a bone crushing hug, effectively cutting off his sentence with a wheeze. “You two will be okay,” she whispered into his ears. “But you’ve got some obstacles ahead of you, dear. Remember who your friends are.” She let him go and spoke louder. “Come back soon boys, this was a great visit!”

Dean grumbled something under his breath about having spent it looking at her car. She clapped him on the back of the head before hugging him.

The walk back to the campus was just as silent as the walk to Missouri’s. Dean could only pray that Missouri had talked to Castiel, had provided some kind of comfort that he found himself incapable of giving. He looked at Castiel out of the corner of his eye as they walked. He was bundled under his coat, his eyes straight ahead. Dean couldn’t help but be curious about what was running through his head.

He wasn’t sure when he’d begun to feel attracted to the guy. Was it before, or after he pulled the dick move at the party? Was it the morning that Castiel had told him what he’d gone through? He couldn’t pinpoint a specific moment that it had begun to build. all he knew was that, here, now, walking onto campus with him, he was most definitely attracted to him.

Castiel’s eyes flicked over to him and Dean’s head whipped the other way. “You’re staring.” he grumbled.

Dean shrugged. “Sorry. Just wondering if you’ve got the mark of Missouri now.” he waggled his fingers in the air, making a silly face.

Castiel huffed out a laugh, watching the small cloud of his breath dissipate. “What does that even mean?”

Dean laughed with him. “Hell if I know.”

They met Jo in the dining hall, who was trying to fling peas into her roommates hair, their shrieks of laughter audible throughout the entire hall. A few of their other friends sat around them, engaged in their own conversations, or challenging Anna to catch the peas in her mouth, rather than her hair.

Dean caught Jo in a headlock and ruffled her hair with his fist. She yelped, laughing and tried to bite his arm. “Dean Winchester, I will kill you!” she yelled.

Dean only laughed. “Whadaya want Joanna Beth?”

Her fist collided with his bicep with a soft thud. “You two,” she pointed at Castiel as well. “Are coming to a party with Anna and I tonight.”

Almost instantly, Castiel clammed up. “Oh no. no thank you, I can’t.” It was almost like the first time he and Dean had begun talking.

Dean met his eyes, sympathy obvious in them. “It’ll be different from the last one,” he finally said. He bit his lip, drawing Castiel’s eyes to the small movement. “I promise.”

Castiel sighed, finally turning to Jo, seeing her hopeful expression. “Fine,” he conceded. “I’ll go.”

Jo’s shrieks of joy made him feel as though his heart would burst. Friends. He had actually, finally made friends.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay! I really hope you enjoyed this chapter. Things will be heating up in the next chapter (which is already in the works, no worries)


	8. Chapter 8

Castiel sat on the couch, his hands clasped tightly in his lap. The bass beat thudded around him, vibrating his bones, causing his teeth to clatter lightly. All around him was movement. On the couch next to him, he was pretty positive a couple was attempting to remove each other’s tonsils. All around the room, people were milling about, downing shots, and grinding on random passer-bys. Someone was doing a handstand across the room, while simultaneously drinking beer. He blurrily thought about how dangerous that could be.

Jo appeared out of nowhere and plopped down next to him, jostling the couple to their right. “Hey Cas!” she slurred. He turned his head to look at her through drunken eyes. “Are you having fun?” Castiel only shrugged, turning back to the events unfolding before him. Dean was standing across the room, uncomfortably close to another guy, a broad smile across his face.

Jo’s gaze followed his. “You know he came out, right? To his brother?”

Castiel wasn’t sure if it was that knowledge or the alcohol truly hitting him that made him dizzy. He shook his head, watching the room spin lazily around him. “Don’t you think he deserves to know how you feel?” Jo’s lips were close to Castiel’s ear, causing an irrational shiver to go down his back. He turned to look at her and she nodded, a predatory smirk gracing her features.

He lurched from the couch, shoving ungracefully through the crowd towards Dean. The cries of protest were only vague murmurs in the back of his mind. His vision had tunneled down to only Dean. Dean, who had his head thrown back, laughing too dramatically at whatever the guy next to him had just said.

Castiel roughly shoved him aside, causing the drink in his hand to slosh to the floor. He grabbed Dean’s arm and dragged him to the middle of the throng of dancing bodies. He pulled Dean flush to him, and began to move his hips. “Cas, man, what the fuck are you doing? I was having a conversation!”

“You owe me a dance,” he growled in response. His hands came to rest possessively on Dean’s hips, initiating a slow grind to the music. Somewhere within him, the sober part of him was jumping up and down, screaming at him to stop, to abort the mission, to knock it off. Castiel  wanted to flick him in the eye. The alcohol coursed through him, warming his veins, pushing his blood lower and lower. Somewhere, bouncing around in the back of his head, he could hear Missouri’s voice, conspiratorially telling him he might get a kiss.

The look in Dean’s eyes could only be described as primal, as he abandoned his drink and brought his hands to Castiel’s shoulders, pulling him tighter to his body. It seemed that the only part of their bodies that weren’t touching was their faces and neither of them was sure how long that’d last.

Green eyes melted with blue eyes, both as vicious and determined; who would make the first move?

Apparently, it turned out to be Jo.

“ _Body shots!_ ” she shrieked from the kitchen. A corner of Dean’s mouth pulled up into a feral smirk. He slipped his hand into Castiel’s and tugged him to the kitchen with him. Jo saw them first and grabbed Castiel from Dean. “On the counter, smarty pants,” she giggled.

Castiel rolled his eyes and laid his body over the countertop. Dean hovered over him, staring at his sweaty brow, his flushed skin. “Ready?” he whispered. Castiel only bit his lip, and nodded. Dean gently slid a lime wedge between Castiel’s lips, mesmerized, watching his fingertips disappear momentarily. They met eyes, and for only a moment, the fun fell away and Castiel could see in Dean’s eyes, that he was asking. It was a small gesture and subtle one, but Castiel felt his heart swell drunkenly at it. He gave him a small nod.

With that, Dean disappeared from his view and he felt his shirt being teased up slightly. Behind him, Jo let out a yell of excitement and Castiel wondered when they garnered the audience that yelled with her.

His thoughts disappeared, though, when he felt warm breath at his navel. He jerked his head up just in time to watch Dean’s tongue slide from his lips and over this skin right above his belly button. He shuddered, his head falling heavily back onto the countertop. W _hen did foodplay become a turn on?_ he wondered blurrily.

The was a slight tickle as the salt fell to his skin. “Here you go,” J.o said gleefully, handing Dean his shot glass, tequila dribbling over the sides.

He met Castiel’s eyes again, an overwhelming bubble of lust building in him, feeling like his insides were being set on fire. “Down the hatch,” he announced, winking coyly at Castiel.

He dragged his tongue over Castiel’s belly, reveling in the warmth and the sting of salt. He stood up proudly and grabbed the shot glass, downing it quickly, blinking at the burn sliding down his throat. He gingerly placed the shot glass on the counter and framed his hands on either side of Castiel’s head. Blue eyes stared trustingly up at him.

Dean lead down until he could feel Castiel’s short huffs of breath ghosting over his face. He grinned and pressed his open mouth to Castiel’s. Their lips were pressed together for a moment before Dean nipped at the lime wedge and sucked it from Castiel’s mouth. He stood straight again, allowing the room to dip and tilt momentarily before crying out, “Who the hell is next!”

A drunken couple pushed their way through the crowd and Dean pulled Castiel off of the counter just before the girl pushed herself up to where he had been laying. Castiel stumbled, staggering into the loop of Dean’s arms. He looked up, meeting his eyes again. Castiel was sure the tension between them was palpable; he could feel it ripple every time someone jostled him.

Dean heard a whistle from behind him and turned slightly to see Benny laughing at him. “Get a room, you idiots!” he called. “We came for a party, not a porno!”

Dean grinned down at Castiel, still holding him tightly. “Wanna get out of here?” he asked quietly. Castiel only nodded, his own grin forming.

Dean didn’t know how they made it back to their dorm rooms, whispering and hushing each other, choking on their laughs. He wasn’t sure how he was even capable of walking straight with the borderline painful boner he was sporting since doing the body shot. They somehow made it into their dorm without waking up any of the RA’s on duty and shut their door quietly.

Castiel leaned heavily against the wall, his eyes closed, feeling himself inching closer and closer to dizzingly sobriety. There was a gentle pressure around him and he opened his eyes, almost hitting his head on the wall at Dean being so much closer. Those green eyes bore into his, darkened with desire.

“Cas,” Dean mumbled, his eyes falling to his lips. “Cas, can I kiss you?” his voice was husky and Castiel felt his stomach clench. He couldn’t reply even if he had tried; his voice seemed to have taken a hike the second the door opened. He managed a small nod of consent before Dean leaned down and captured his lips.

Castiel let out a small gasp that melted into a sigh as Dean’s hand slid up his sides to cup his face. His lips were persistent, yet gentle, tasting of tequila and citrus, mixing with his own scent. Castiel’s hands ghosted over Dean’s sides, making him shiver and press closer before his hands fell to his hips, fingers curling into the belt loops.

Dean tilted his head slightly to the side, tentatively running his tongue along the seam of Castiel’s lips. His mouth fell open and Dean licked his way into his mouth, their tongues meeting, twisting around one another. Castiel was sure his heart was going to beat its way directly from his chest and he wasn’t sure how he was still breathing and _dammit_ Dean tasted like tequila and heaven and Castiel wanted so much more.

His hands tightened on Dean’s hips and seemingly against his will, his hips thrust up. Dean pulled away from Castiel’s mouth with a wet _smack_ and a stuttered breath. Castiel ducked his head to latch onto Dean’s neck, licking and nipping lightly at his collarbone. Dean’s breathing stuttered again when the bites come harder and Castiel is sucking.

“Cas,” Dean whispered breathlessly. “Cas, you’re gonna kill me man.” he refused to acknowledge how high his voice sounded.

Castiel hummed from his neck, pulling away to reply, “Well that’s no good. Then I won’t get to do all the things I want…” he dragged his hands away from Dean’s hips and up his chest, softly tweaking his nipples before wrapping back around him. Dean let out a shameless moan and Castiel want to laugh in triumph. He wanted to leap and pump his fist in the air.

Instead, Dean only growled something incoherently and traps Castiel in his arms, gently moving them towards their bedroom. He chooses his bed, depositing Castiel there before crawling over him to kiss him, filling the room with their gasps and quiet, bitten-off moans.

Dean wasn’t aware when he began to thrust again Castiel, the hardness separated only by two layers of denim, all he heard was Castiel’s keening, high-pitched moans, feeling his body squirm relentlessly beneath him.

“Cas, Cas,” he murmured against his lips, swallowing his moans. His hands ghosted over his hips, now exposed since his T-shirt had ridden up a short while ago. “Cas, please, can I?” he gasped out the question, never having realized how much asking to do something was such a turn on. He knew he was only asking for Castiel’s benefit but he’d be damned if the words coming from his mouth didn’t send a bolt of heat below his waist.

“Please, please, please,” Castiel barely got his reply out before Dean had thrust down again, causing his begging to end with a breathy sigh turned moan. Dean took a deep breath, allowing himself to slow down, to give this to Castiel, not to take it, but to give it. He kissed lightly at his neck, his hands wandering down to his sides, over the button on his jeans. Castiel let out a small sigh of relief when Dean undid it and lowered the zipper. He eagerly shimmied his way out of the jeans, kicking  them onto the floor before yanking Dean back down for another heated kiss and pulling a groan of pleasure from him.

Dean barely noticed that Castiel had undid his own jeans until they were around his knees and Castiel had pressed an insistent palm against the erection tented in his boxers. His body bucked down and his eyes flew open to see Castiel smiling knowingly at him. His jaw dropped open as Castiel continued his exploration, allowing precum to soak the front of his boxers.

Dean found himself on his elbows, draped over Castiel, gasping at the torture his hand was inflicting. “Is this where we stop for the night, Dean?” Castiel purred. He normally wasn’t the talkative type, at least as far as he knew. He thanked the alcohol for only spurring him on, sparing him sickness this one time.

“Oh hell no,” Dean choked out. He laced his hands with Castiel’s, pinning them next to him before he moved his way down his body, an overwhelming combination of fingers, teeth and tongue. Castiel obediently left his hands at his sides as he thrashed beneath Dean, letting tiny whimpers every time that Dean reached another sweet spot.

Dean finally reached the waistband of his boxers and nibbled lightly at them, looking up at Castiel.

There it was again, he thought, peering down at Dean, who was bent over between his legs. That _look_. He was asking for permission, again. “Please, please,” Castiel whispered, pushing his hips up slightly. Dean made a face that fell between a smirk and a smile, and slowly freed Castiel from his boxers.

He wasted absolutely no time observing Castiel’s cock laid out and hard for him, or thinking about it whatsoever before he dipped down and took the head of it into his mouth. Castiel sucked in a breath, his stomach expanding before letting out a low moan and sinking down into the bed. All around him was Dean. He inhaled the scent wafting from his pillows, his eyes caught the ACDC poster over his bed, Dean was-oh _God_ , Dean was languidly massaging his dick with his tongue, licking insistently along the vein and Castiel was sure he was going to come undone right then and there.

“Dean, Dean, Dean,” he chanted mindlessly, his head thrashing from side to side, hands fisted in the sheets, hips making short, harsh thrusts into Dean’s mouth.

Dean let out a small hum of contentment and pleasure and that was it for Castiel. He squeezed his eyes shut, thrust his hips again, moaned low and loud, on the verge of crying, and let go into Dean’s mouth.

If Dean had never done this before, he was doing a great job at disguising it. He swallowed Castiel down, holding his hips to the bed, keeping his mouth on his dick until it stop twitching, finally softening with exhaustion.

He removed his mouth with a loud pop and sat up to look at Castiel, who was splayed out on his bed, eyes closed with a faint smile gracing his features. It was the post-orgasmic blissed out look and Dean would have been lying to himself if that picture didn’t make him harder than he already was.

Castiel opened his eyes suddenly, energy and vigor renewed and he pulled Dean down to kiss him again, almost groaning at the taste of himself. Dean’s boxers rubbing along his still sensitive dick forced another groan from him. “Your turn, he whispered against his lips.

He grasped Dean’s cock through his boxers, drawing out a sensual sigh. His hand remained patient, insistent until Dean conceded and rolled to his side, allowing Castiel to sit up over him, changing the rhythm of his movements as his hand slid under the fabric.

Dean let out a choked off moan that Castiel soothed with repetitive gentle kisses. He ran a blunt fingernail between Dean’s balls and felt him shudder and let out a cry. He could feel them tightening, feel Dean holding back. “Dean,” Castiel whispered, licking the shell of his ear. “Dean, I want to watch you come.”

With that, Deans back arched, Castiel thumbed the tip of his cock, containing most of the mess as he moaned, his body jerking with each spurt of cum. When he finally relaxed, Castiel’s hand was covered in it. He grinned at Dean, finally coming down, realizing how drunk he still was and how amazing actually experiencing that was.

He got up and made his way to the counter by the bathroom, grabbing a wad of paper towels and wetting them before heading back to Dean. They helped clean each other up and deposited the soiled towel in the waste basket that was between their beds. Castiel stood in front of it, suddenly torn. What if all Dean had wanted was to sleep with him, not _sleep_ with him? His still slightly drunken mind tormented at the thought, panicking at the awful possibilities ahead of him.

“Cas,” Dean mumbled from his bed. “Cas, c’mon. We can fit.”

The lump that had lodged in Castiel’s throat dislodged itself and he found himself crawling into Dean’s bed, sliding under the blankets with him. The only clothing between them was their boxers and Dean wrapped his arm around Castiel’s waist, spooning him, holding him tightly.

Castiel inhaled, breathing in the scent of sex, Dean’s natural musk, and the faint twinge of his laundry detergent. It was intoxicating. He felt Dean press a wet, sleepy kiss to the back of his neck. “G’night Cas.”

Castiel sighed, pulling the blankets closer to himself. “Goodnight, Dean.”

Dean woke again, only hours later, his brain still feeling fogged over from alcohol, his mouth dry and caked. He was groggy, his eyes feeling like mush. _Why am I awake?_

His answer came in a moan. It wasn’t like the ones he’d been listening to earlier; it was no longer dripping pleasure and begging for more. It was full of pain, and terror. Castiel’s body was folded tightly at the edge of Dean’s bed, twitching and flinching.

Dean tensed, unable to figure out what he should do. Castiel cried out, his body arching. “No, no, _stop_!” He found himself pressed himself to his wall, his hand held out, a half-hearted attempt, a wish, to help him. Castiel yelled again, his body folding again, his arms swatting at something only he could see.

“Castiel,” Dean said gently, remembering what he had to do. _Sam. Sammy, it’s just a dream, he isn’t here._ “Cas, it’s just a dream. Please wake up,” he kept his voice low, soft. “Please Castiel.”

Castiel froze, his eyes flashing open. He flipped himself over to see Dean staring wide-eyed at him, one arm outstretched. “Oh God, not again,” he mumbled. The alcohol was still in his system, causing the room to spin madly, his system fighting to reject the hallucination; the residual alcohol only made it more difficult. He began to scoot furiously away from Dean, closer and closer to the edge.

Instinctually, Dean reached out even further, grabbing Castiel’s arm and yanking him back. Castiel immediately lashed out kicking and hitting Dean. _Sam, stop it! I am not him! It’s Dean! Your brother Dean, it’s me!_ “Cas stop! Stop it! It’s Dean!” he yelled, allowing himself to raise his voice. He wrapped his arms and legs around Castiel, effectively pinning him to his body. “Cas, please. Breathe,” Dean pressed his mouth to Castiel’s ear, pressing soft kisses to his neck.

Castiel went limp, giving up the fight and began to sob, his face pressed to Dean’s chest. His hands remained fisted between them, slowly drawing up his arms to wrap around himself. Dean said nothing more than murmured sweet nothings, repeated over and over again. He soothed his hand over Castiel’s naked back, holding onto him tightly.

“I’ve got you,” Dean whispered into his ear, gently kissing right below it for the first time. “I’ve got you.”

Castiel laid, pressed against Dean, his eyes open wide as he tried to regain control of his breathing. _You’ve got some obstacles ahead of you._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So. That was my first time writing anything remotely smutty. How'd I do? Let me know :)


	9. Chapter 9

Castiel woke up slowly to the rhythm of breathing right beneath his head. He fought his body, determined to stay asleep, cozy and comfortable until an arm wrapped around his waist, fingers tickling lightly at his hips. “I know you’re awake,” Dean’s voice was rough with sleep and Castiel felt a little giddy at hearing it. He only grumbled, pressing his face further into the crook of Dean’s neck, hiding from the light. “Are you hiding from me?” he joked.

Castiel leaned up, blinking sleepily, Dean’s face coming into focus right next to him. “Bright,” he croaked, burying his head again. In response, Dean chuckled, tightening his arms around Castiel.

They laid together in comfortable silence for a few more minutes before Dean loosened his grasp and scooted down the bed to be eye to eye with Castiel. “What happened last night, Cas?” he finally whispered.

Castiel blinked, fighting to keep a straight face. “You and I, we-”

“You know that isn’t what I’m talking about.” Dean deadpanned.

He sighed, staring at Dean’s chest, steeling himself for the conversation. _Remember who your friends are._ “I...struggle, with intimacy. It...brings things back up. It’s like...flashback vomit, or diarrhea.” He stopped, trying to figure out where he lost control in that sentence. Dean didn’t say anything, only rubbed his hand along Castiel’s arm reassuringly. “I just keep hoping...that it will stop,” his voice was low, quiet and weighed down with grief.

Dean wasn’t sure how to proceed. Deep in his gut, he knew that things had changed between them last night, and he knew that he couldn’t abandon him, or this, whatever this was. What can I do?” he finally asked softly.

Castiel’s deep blue eyes met his longingly. He wanted to say, _Don’t leave. Tell me this is real, that we have something real._ “I’m not sure you can help,” he relented.

Dean sighed, wishing he could have gotten an answer. Had Castiel said something along the lines of “I need you to buy me seven bags of marshmallows a month and write me sonnets” he would have done it; anything so that he didn’t have to hear those cries of terror again and be helpless to stop them. “I’ll do anything you need me to, Cas. Anything.”

With that, Castiel realized that he truly was deeply in over his head.

The boys eventually got out of Dean’s bed and took their respective showers, jokingly whipping each other with the tails of their towels and whistling flirtatiously while they dug through their dressers for clothing. When Castiel finished getting dressed, he found their meager dining room table set with a plate of toast and eggs, with a cup of coffee off to the side. Dean stood proudly next to it, holding his own plate and cup.

Castiel laughed quietly, pulling out his chair. “Dean, what is this?”

Dean sat down across from him, sitting dramatically straight and folding his hands over the table. “Castiel Novak,” he declared, his voice comically deep. “Would you do me the honor of going on a date with me when we get back from Thanksgiving break?”

Castiel merely stared at him, suppressing the urge to burst into laughter. “That’s a really long time from now, Dean,” he said flatly.

Dean deflated until he heard Castiel laughing under his breath a little bit and he straightened up again. “You mean…?” Castiel nodded to him, and he felt a grin light up his face.

They were leaving for Thanksgiving break in four days, and were off for a week after that. “After class tomorrow,” Castiel stated. “I’ll be waiting here at say...five?” Dean only nodded in reply, a wide grin splitting his features.

After he was released from his last class, pleased to find out that his homework and test grades were no longer taking a dive, he found himself pounding on Jo’s door. Instead of Jo, though, Charlie opened the door, her bright red hair in a frizzy halo around her head. He raised a curious eyebrow and she only opened the door further, allowing him to step in.

On the couch in the common room was Benny, topless from what Dean could tell, and snoring like a monster. Ash lay in a fort of blankets, kicking slightly. Another girl, whom Dean had never met before, staggered from Charlie and Jo’s room, cocooning herself in Charlie’s arms. Dean shrugged and walked to the room, to find Jo laying in her own bed, holding an ice pack to her head and attempting to open a water bottle with one hand.

He laughed, snatching it from her and opened it. “Joanna Beth, the hell happened to you?”

She only groaned, sipping at the water. “I am never partying with those two again. I lost two rounds of strip poker after you and Cas left and, well. I need more condoms.”

Dean choked on his inhale. “I don’t even want to know. I have something to tell you, or are you too hungover or fucked out to talk?” Jo met his question with a glare that made Dean believe she would have punched him had she been capable of moving. “Okay fine. Well, Cas and I have a date tomorrow.”

Jo sat up suddenly, her ice pack falling off of her head. “Dean, oh my god, really?! That’s so awesome! What the hell happened when you guys left?” He only raised an eyebrow at her. “Wait, nevermind, I don’t want all the dirty details. But that’s so awesome!”

“You already said that, Jo.”

“I’m excited, you ass! I’m happy for you!”

Dean gave his friend a small smile, trying to suppress the feeling in him that made him want to burst. He fidgeted slightly, trying to look away from Jo’s intoxicating smile.

“But since when did you...you know. Like him?” she had put the ice pack back on her head, leaning at an angle to prevent it from falling off.

Dean shrugged, running a hand through his short hair. “I dunno. I mean. He’s just been such a constant for me lately, even when I was being a dick. Something about that is hot as hell.”

Jo rolled her eyes, laying back down. “Such a masochist, Dean Winchester,” she murmured and rolled over. “Go away. I have an awful hangover to nurse. I’ll be more excited for you later on.”

He laughed, smoothing a hand over her hair before departing, heading back to his room. He was surprised when he walked in to find Castiel sitting with Balthazar, sharing cups of tea and laughing at each other. Dean nodded amiably at them, heading to his room, trying to figure out where in the _hell_ the desire to punch Balthazar in his nose came from.

Dean stood in his room, facing his bed, fists clenching and unclenching, breathing unevenly through his nose. He heard the door to the dorm open and swing back shut, and then Castiel came into the room, laying across his own bed.

Dean whirled, climbing onto Castiel’s bed with him, leaning over his body. His blue eyes met Dean’s with some alarm before Dean swooped down, capturing his lips in a gentle kiss. Castiel immediately melted into his grasp, his hands fluttering up to rest on Dean’s shoulders as he nipped teasingly at his lips. “Hi Cas,” Dean whispered, their lips moving with his words, breath mingling; the taste of tea and bubblegum.

Castiel blinked dazedly up at Dean. “Hello Dean,” he whispered back breathlessly. “Can I ask what compelled you to tackle me this afternoon?” he asked this as Dean kissed lightly and insistently at his neck.

“I don’t like that guy,” he murmured, running his tongue along Castiel’s pulse. “He’s rude.” It was refreshing, relieving to be honest with Castiel, to kiss him the way he wanted to in his dreams, to have him closer than he could have dreamed.

Castiel huffed out a quiet laugh, trying to focus on Dean’s words, rather than one of his hands which was tickling lightly at his hipbone, a fingernail dipping slightly to his waistband, and teasing back up. “We’ve been friends since middle school,” he finally replied.

Dean sat up on his knees, hovering away from Castiel and sighed. “I can try to tolerate him. But I can’t promise I won’t punch him in his snarky British mouth one day.”

“Trust me, I know better than to make that promise.” Castiel scooted out from under Dean, leaning back against the wall to observe him curiously. He had a miniscule flush on his cheeks, and he was clenching and unclenching his jaw. “Dean Winchester,” he exclaimed. “Are you...jealous?”

Dean reared back, falling to the other end of the bed. “What? No! Why would I be jealous?” he snapped.

Castiel laughed, feeling his heart swell. Dean, the image of machismo and masculinity was gay, possibly liked him, and was jealous of his best friend. He felt slightly guilty for enjoying the last part, but only just slightly. He leaned forward, over Dean, hovering so that their lips were just brushing each other. Dean held his breath, staring into Castiel’s gleaming eyes. “I can assure you, Dean Winchester, there is nothing romantic or sexual between him and I.” _Like I have with you_.

He leaned further, finally kissing Dean properly, catching his escaped breath, inhaling him, tasting him. Their tongue’s touched and Castiel felt gloriously dizzy, trying to keep himself from collapsing.

“Cas,” Dean gasped. “As much as I’d love to continue this, I know you have homework that you’ll be panicking about shortly. I’d rather not push you back into hating me.”

“I couldn’t hate you,” Castiel mumbled, kissing Dean again, sucking lightly at his bottom lip, tugging a quiet groan from him.

“Cas, man. _I_ have homework that I need to be panicking about.” his brain was just a few kisses away from shorting out and he couldn’t afford that. He wanted to do this right.

Castiel finally crawled off of Dean, sitting back at the head of his bed, frowning. “Fine. But only because you’re so persistent.”

 _You’re so cute_ , Dean wanted to say, but the words stuck like glue on his tongue. He’d never said them to a guy before; never had the chance. He squirmed uncomfortably beneath Castiel’s calculating gaze before leaping off the bed, adjusting himself in his pants and sitting at his desk.

A comfortable silence fell over the room as Dean read his textbook, tapping out a miscellaneous beat on his desk. He couldn’t pay attention to the words he was seeing, to preoccupied with remembering the feel of Castiel’s lips against his, the jut of his hipbone curving sensually beneath his fingers. A breath shudders past his lips and his vision blurs as he squints furiously at the text in front of him.

Castiel sat on the other side of the room, contentedly typing away at his midterm paper, a small smile twitching at the corner of his mouth. He could hear Dean unconsciously sighing in frustration, the tapping of his pen losing its rhythm every few minutes. He was so flustered and it made Castiel feel _powerful_. He was dizzy with it and it made him want to cross the room, sit on Dean and kiss him senseless.

And yet he remained in his seat, the hormones subsiding and determination to finish his paper before his date with Dean.

They slept in their own beds that night, in a mutual, unspoken agreement. Dean hugged one of his pillows between his arms, frustrated from the lack of warmth it provided. He held himself very still, tuning his ears to the sound of Castiel’s breathing across the room. He could hear his own heartbeat thudding lazily in his chest and he wanted to have a conversation with it, ask it when the hell it decided that Castiel would become the most attractive person he’d ever laid eyes on.

Castiel laid in his own bed, his sheets fanned out over him, a slight panic building in his chest. He wasn’t sure why he became dependent on Dean sleeping next to him so quickly. His arms around him, gentle and unconfining, were reassuring, calming his subconscious and easing the nightmares. He was annoyed with himself at this; he didn’t know what would happen with Dean, he wasn’t sure if he even fully trusted him yet.

He let out a shuddery breath, rolling over. “Dean?” he whispered softly, unsure if he was still awake.

Dean jumped, but settled quickly. “Yeah, Cas?”

“Goodnight.”

“Night Cas.”

/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*

 **Sammy** : _A date? Like a real date? That’s awesome! I’ll see you on break!_

Dean smiled at his phone before pocketing it, taking one last look at himself in the mirror. His sun-streaked blonde hair was messily spiked, a style he’d perfected early in middle school. His teeth were sparkling clean, and his button-down shirt was left open, a tight black shirt beneath it stretched over his chest. He raised his arm and sniffed the pit for the fourth time since he’d gotten out of the shower, straightened his shirt and left the room.

Castiel stood in Gabriel’s apartment, turning in front of the full-length mirror for the seventh time that night. Were the jeans too tight? Did his hair scream too loudly ‘fucked out’? He tugged at his Henley again, wondering if the neckline was too stupid when Gabriel poked his head into the room for the fourth time. “Bro, you’ve been standing in front of that thing long enough to give Narcissus a run for his money. You look fine.”

Castiel raised his scared blue eyes to meet Gabriel’s. “He’s going to be here soon, isn’t he?” his voice was high with panic and he found himself unconsciously running a hand through his hair again.

Gabriel glanced at his watch. “T-minus five minutes, stop panicking.”

Castiel threw him a bewildered look, following him out to the living room. “Gabe,” he hissed. “I’ve had a crush on him since move in day, I think I have every right to panic!”

Gabriel only smiled all too calmly at him, shaking his head. With that, the doorbell rang and Castiel felt like he was getting ready to swallow his heart.

"Dean!" Gabriel boomed all too cheerily. "The man of the hour. Come in, come in."

Dean stepped nervously over the threshold, stuffing his hands in his pockets to avoid the urge to run his hands through his hair. “Hey Gabe,” he stammered.

Gabriel clapped a surprisingly heavy hand on his shoulder. “Listen. My baby brother is my life. Don’t you lay an unwanted finger on him or else you’ll find that finger along with the rest of its hand in a blender. Got it?”

Dean could feel the words gurgling up his throat, the words that would bring a fight, the things that Gabriel had no idea about. Instead, he gave a what felt like a smile and said, “sure, man. I know.” Satisfied with the answer, Gabriel ushered the other two boys out of the apartment.

Dean and Castiel stood on the porch for a moment. Castiel could see the conflict in his eyes; he knew what he was thinking about; he didn’t want that to be what he was thinking about. He slid his hand into Dean’s squeezing lightly. “Where to, Romeo?” he asked with a ghost of a smile.

Dean grinned at him. “Let’s go.”

Words couldn’t describe the appreciative look that Dean gave his car before opening the door for Castiel, or the way that he slid his hand over the hood of it before getting in the drivers side. The man appreciated his car, his baby. Castiel smiled underneath his hand--is that how he was with his relationships as well?

_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_--_____-_--_

Castiel’s sides were still hurting when they left the restaurant. Dean had continued quoting the comedian’s jokes throughout their meal and Castiel only continued to laugh, gasping for breath, his fettuccine long forgotten. Dean had his arm thrown over Castiel’s shoulder as they walked to the dorms, enjoying the feeling of his shaking laughter beneath his arm.

What Dean never said, was that this was the first time he’d taken someone on a date that wasn’t a movie and dinner at a two buck diner. This was the first time he consciously picked out clothes for a date, skipping over his grease-stained jeans. This was the first time that he wasn’t actively trying to come up with ways for them both to end up naked.

And Castiel was practically glowing, radiating a happiness Dean hadn’t seen at all since they met. For the first time in a long time, he felt truly safe.


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some smut here, letting you know.   
> As well as a great big trigger warning involving an encounter with a rapist. If you feel that you cannot read this chapter without affecting your mental health, please skip. I don't want my writing to cause anything bad for anyone else. If you do read, comments are greatly appreciated!

Dean swung the front door open, and was bombarded with the scent of pizza. As was tradition since he and Sam had moved in with Bobby, the day before Thanksgiving was a myriad of takeout.

“Dean!” Ellen called from the kitchen. “Did you bring my daughter safely home?”

He smiled, turning to see Jo struggling through the door with her bags. “You know I keep my promises Ellen!”

“Boy, get your ass in here and eat! We have enough food to feed a cavalry!” Bobby’s gruff voice sounded like home to Dean, and he dropped his bag on the living room couch, joining everyone at the dining room table. There was pizza, chinese and a small stack of chicken wings and cinnamon twists.

“Christ, why even wait to have Thanksgiving tomorrow?” Jo pulled out a chair, snatching a slice of pizza for herself.

“Because Dean would kill us if we missed an excuse to make pie for him,” Sam said dryly.

Dean shot him a glare, loading up his place. “It’s no excuse! It’s a national holiday! It’s tradition! What would Thanksgiving be without pie? It’s a crime, and you know it.”

They all only rolled their eyes while Bobby grumbled, “sit down, and eat you idgit.”

He smiled. Their family was rag tag at best, but it was family, and that mattered.

-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-

“Gabe, Cas, over here!” Anna waved her arms in the air, her bright red hair shining brightly in the sun. Castiel grinned, walking faster and dropping his bags before scooping his sister into a hug. Gabriel caught her on the other side, sandwiching her between her brothers. “You guys are ridiculous!” she laughed. “Let’s go home. Your train got here a little later than we thought; mom’s probably panicking.”

“Of course she’s panicking,” Castiel smiled, walking between his older brother and sister. Anna’s red hair was shining brightly in the sun and Gabriel’s cheeks had little pinches of pink on them from the cold. Castiel never truly recognized just how homesick he was until he actually went home on vacations.

When they got to their house, he had barely stepped over the threshold before their mother rushed at them, gathering them in a giant hug, crushing Castiel between his siblings. He laughed with them, inhaling the scent of his mother’s perfume, the kind that clung to everything in the house. It was futile not to be able to smell it, and it always brought memories of home.

“My babies are home!” she cried. “I’m so happy to see all of you at the same time again!” she grasped Castiel’s face between her hands, blue eyes meeting blue. “Oh, how I’ve missed my little baby.” Castiel only laughed, pressing his forehead to his mother’s for a moment before pulling out of the hug to pick up his bags.

He began to lug them up the stairs, waiting for the rush of nostalgia that always came when he got to his room after a semester at school. “Oh, Castiel, dear?”

“Yeah, mom?” He paused at the top of the stairs, ears straining to catch her next words.

“You’ve got a guest waiting to see you. Don’t be too antisocial, you hear me?”

Castiel only laughed, shaking his head. “I know mom.” But who was here?

He swung his bedroom door open and stopped short, his bags toppling from his arms as his heart began to pound furiously.

“Hello Castiel. I’ve missed you so much.”

-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-

Dean laid across the couch, Jo’s head in his lap. On the TV scream, the woman in the slasher movie they were watching shrieked loudly, her arms in the air. Across the room Sam snorted, burying his face in his arms to stifle the laughter.

From the kitchen, Ellen called, “Boys, am I gonna get your help in here, or have to sabotage these apple pies?”

Dean lurched from his seat, sending Jo crashing to the floor. “You wouldn’t dare!” he yelled, running into the kitchen. Jo sat up, shooting a furious glare in the direction of the kitchen.

Ellen stood there, leaning against the counter, her arms folded, and three pristine pies laid out in front of her on the table. Dean stopped short, his eyebrows pulling together. “Um. Ellen?”

“So rumor has it you had a date...and you never told me?”

“Uh, yeah…” Dean scratched his head awkwardly.

“With a boy?”

Dean swallowed thickly. “Listen, I was gonna tell you guys soon enough. I mean, I’m just-”

Ellen laughed and pulled Dean into a hug, crushing him to her. “Boy, I just want you to be happy. I couldn’t give a rat’s ass who with.”

Dean smiled slightly, looking down. “Thanks Ellen. I’ve had a bit of a hard time...being honest with myself, you know?”

She rubbed a hand over his back. “Don’t you worry about that, young man. You take your time, take care of yourself.”

-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-

“What the _fuck_ are you doing here?” Much to his disdain, Castiel’s voice shook as he said the words, lowering the effectiveness of them.

Avery tsk’ed under his breath, standing up from Castiel’s desk. “Your vocabulary has grown quite a lot there.”

Castiel swallowed, pressing himself to the wall, his dropped bags long forgotten. “I asked you a question.” his voice grew firmer as the anger within him built up.

Avery smiled; one that anyone else may have seen as charming, or sweet. It raised the bile in Castiel’s stomach, acidity climbing in his throat. “I said, I missed you. I decided to come check in on you. I haven’t seen you since you’ve gone to the dorms.”

Castiel’s eyes narrowed. “I went to the dorms for a reason.” his voice was dark.

Avery’s smile turned nasty, never faltering. “Do I disgust that much Castiel?” he stepped forward until Castiel was pressed to the wall, and ran his finger over his face. He flinched, turning his face away from Avery, his heart pounding. What was he to do? Fight him? Run away? Avery hummed. “Hm, I suppose I do. What should we do about that?”

“You need to leave,” Castiel said lowly, barely able to gasp out the words, his heart was racing so fast.

“You can’t run away from your problems,” Avery whispered, leaning closer to Castiel.

Castiel spoke again, this time his voice was dark and steady. “I swear to God if you put one more _fucking_ finger on me, I will find my rape kit results and your sorry ass will be in jail before you can even say my name.” His eyes narrowed, a sneer growing on his face. “You do know what they do to rapists in jail, don’t you?” Avery had stepped back now, a flicker of fear crossing his features. “Oh, but wait,” Castiel only continued, cocking his head to the side. “I’m sure you’d _love_ a taste of your own medicine. I’m sure you’re _dying_ to know what it feels like to have something _forced onto you_.” Avery swallowed, glaring at Castiel. “I said leave!” he snapped suddenly, lunging at him.

Avery jumped back, sliding past Castiel and through the doorway. “This isn’t over yet, you whore,” he hissed before bounding down the stairs and out the front door.

Castiel shut his door, collapsing to the floor of his bedroom, his hands over his heart. _I’m going to throw up_ , he thought wildly. He blindly found himself crawling to his waste basket, the sound of dry heaving reaching his ears and the stench of stomach acid and partially digested lunch causing his nose to wrinkle.

He fell again next to the waste basket, curling into himself, holding his knees to his chest as if it were all he could do to keep himself before falling apart. A high pitched keening noise was irritating him, it was unwavering and continuous. A moment later, he realized that it was him that was making that sound. He was rocking back and forth, whining at the back of his throat, unable to cry, unable to feel at all.

Through blurry eyes, he recognized his phone laying a few feet from him and managed to drag himself to it. He had apparently memorized Dean’s number because he dialed it without any kind of hesitation, moving the phone to his ear with stilted movements.

There’s a tinny laughter in his ears, the sound of Dean making a sarcastic noise at someone before he’s addressed, “Hey Cas, man, what’s up? Having a good family night?”

Instead of talking, the only noise that he makes is that same high-pitched whine that chokes off into a sob.

Immediately, Dean panicked. He shoves out of the kitchen and runs out of the house, to his Impala-comfort zone. “Cas? Cas, talk to me! Are you okay? Did something happen?”

“He’s here,” Castiel finally whispered, clenching tightly to the phone. “He came to my _house_.”

Dean froze, rage rising up in him so quickly that he could see red, could feel the blood pounding furiously in his veins. His free hand clenched the steering wheel, averting the desire to punch through his windshield. “Did he touch you?” he barely managed to growl out.

Castiel opened his mouth to answer, and in the back of his mind, he could only replay the vision of Avery running his finger over Castiel’s cheek. He found himself scrambling up and crawling back to the trash can again.

Dean winced at the sound of heaving, allowing it to only fuel his anger. “Cas. Talk to me. What. Happened.”

Castiel coughed, curling back up on the floor. “He was here. Wait for me. He told me it wasn’t-” He hiccuped. “Over. I threatened him with the rape kit results. He didn’t-” hiccup, sob. “React.”

Dean sat in his car, trying to breathe steadily. _In through your nose, out through your mouth_. The yoga classes Sam had made him sit through came back in a flurry. Eerily calm, Dean asked, “Cas. Do you need me to come get you?”

There was a sniffle and Castiel sat up, pulling his knees to his chest. “No, I don’t think so,” he whispered. “I think I scared him for now.” His voice was small.

Dean huffed out a quiet laugh. “Scared him?”

A hint of a smile graced Castiel’s face. “Adrenaline was on my side.”

Dean scrubbed a hand over his face, leaning over the steering wheel. “Cas, what are you gonna do? You told me...your family has no idea. You’ve still got four more days of vacation and...and I’m worried about you.”

Castiel pressed his face into his knees, breathing deeply. “Just…stay on the phone with me, Dean. Please.”

“Anything,” Dean said back solidly.

With that, he walked Castiel through brushing his teeth and washing his face, changing his clothes and dumping his trash. When it was finished, Castiel sat on his bed, wrapping his finger around a loose thread on his T-shirt. He was feeling fresher, cleaner, rid of the vile residue that was Avery.

“So, I guess this is where I deposit you back with your family,” Dean said slowly.

“I was not aware that you had withdrawn me.”

Dean smiled to himself, staring at the house. Castiel was making his usual confused quips; he was feeling better. “Text me, please. I’m still worried.”

Only a few hours later, Castiel found himself in the living room, squeezed between Anna and his mother who were both crunching loudly on popcorn, they’re eyes glued to the television screen.

**Dean:** _That’s funny, we watched a slasher flick too._

**Cas** : _Not funny at all Dean. They jump and throw popcorn everywhere. Rather annoying_.

As if on cue, the killer on screen leapt through a window and both Anna and their mother shrieked, sending another wave of popcorn into the air around Castiel. He sighed exasperatedly, pushing himself deeper into the couch cushions.

His skin was still crawling from his encounter with Avery, but he was slowly beginning to feel warmer, sitting with his family, laughing at their antics. Nobody said anything when he had come downstairs at least half an hour after Avery had left. His mother merely began to bombard him with questions about university and his classes; did he make friends, how was the food, was he drinking, was he being careful? Castiel gleefully answered every question, each one pushing Avery further and further back.

Later that night, Castiel found himself tossing and turning his bed, unable to fall asleep. He glanced at his phone, the screen reading 11:12PM. He changed his sheets. He fluffed his pillow. He reorganized his desk. He went through his old mail. He put a load of laundry in the wash, sneaking down the stairs, praying he didn’t wake his mother.

1:44AM.

He cleaned up his desktop. He refolded his clothes.

2:29AM.

Finally, Castiel collapsed in his bed, his eyes open wide, pleading for sleep. And then his phone rang.

“Dean?” he gasped hopefully.

“Hey Cas, I’m sorry I….why do you sound so awake?” Dean was laying in his bed, his head stuffed under his pillow, yet still couldn’t drown out the continuous snoring of Bobby in the other room.

Castiel laughed quietly. “I...I couldn’t fall asleep. I accidentally cleaned  my whole room.”

Dean frowned. “You accidentally-Cas go to bed!”

Dean heard a small scuffle as he pulled the blankets over himself. “There, I’m in bed. Are you happy?”

“No.”

“Wh-”

“I wish I was there with you,” Dean’s voice squeaked at the last word and he cleared his throat uncomfortably, wishing it was easier to say those words.

Castiel smiled to himself, burying his face in his pillow. “I do too Dean.” A silence fell over the line, interrupted only by the staticky crackle of their service going in and out. “Talk to me, Dean.”

“About what?”

“Anything. I just...I want to hear your voice.”

Dean’s heart leapt. This was a way to help Castiel. He may have not said it outright, but he hoped he could help him, and now he got his chance. “Okay….well, my family is really crazy annoying. Sam and Jo told Ellen I’m gay and she threatened to ruin pies to get me to talk. Jo fell asleep on me in the middle of the movie and I can hear Bobby snoring through the walls. I wish Breathe-Right strips worked on him…”

_“Oh God, don’t stop Dean. Don’t stop, don’t stop,” Castiel writhed on his bed beneath Dean’s ministrations. Dean only growled, pushing his fingers impossibly further into Castiel, pulling a heavy moan from his throat. His back was arched, trying to keep Dean’s fingers as deep as possible inside of him._

_“Can I Cas?” Dean’s voice was breathless. “Can I please?”_

_Dean’s fingers had stopped moving and Castiel found himself bucking down onto them, desperate for that friction again. “Please,” he sobbed, his voice cracking. “I need you.”_

_With that, Dean was pressing to his entrance, past that tight ring of muscles, deeper into his warmth. His body was bowed over Castiel’s, shaking from trying to keep control. “Fuck, Cas,” he grated. “You’re so….you’re so...perfect.”_

_He was fully sheathed inside of Castiel, his chest heaving with effort. “Dean, move,” Castiel whined, trying to thrust up._

_Dean’s hands flew down, covering Castiel’s hips, the bones digging into his palms. He pulled out slowly before snapping his hips, pushing himself back in and drawing out a cry from Castiel._

_With that, he set a near torturous pace that had Castiel clinging to the edge of his orgasm, never being given the  chance to outright take it. “Dean, dean,” he chanted. “Dean, come on,” his teeth were clenched. “Dean, fuck me.”_

_And suddenly his hips were moving too quickly for Castiel to keep up with, too fast for him to match and he could feel the pool of heat in his stomach, flames licking him from within, he could see the stars light up behind his eyes very time the tip of Dean’s dick hit his prostate. His voice was hoarse from crying out so loudly but he managed to moan, “Dean, Dean I’m gonna-!”_

Castiel jolted awake covered in a thin sheen of sweat, wetness blossoming in his boxers. He groaned heavily, falling back against his pillows, scrubbing an embarrassed hand over his face.

He jerked upright again, staring around his room.

He’d seen Avery yesterday. He’d had a full blown panic attack. And yet, here he was, a solid six hours of sleep in him, and no nightmares. He fumbled around his pillows, fingers groping for his cell phone. He grabbed it, clicking to the time stamp on his and Dean’s conversation. Dean had hung up two hours after he had called Castiel.

He blinked. No nightmares.

Castiel took a deep breath, allowing the thought to sink deep in his chest. The movement made his skin stick to his boxers and he shifted uncomfortably. _Happy Thanksgiving_ , he thought, getting out of bed to find a clean pair of boxers.


	11. Chapter 11

Castiel sat nervously on Missouri’s couch, grasping his cup of tea tightly. Missouri sat across from him on the other couch, her chin tucked into her hand, staring easily at him. Castiel fidgeted, his trenchcoat twisting underneath him.

“Hon, I know you ain’t got all day. Dean is going to be back on campus in about forty-eight minutes. What did you want to talk with me about? Spit it out, dear.”

Castiel inhaled, taking a long sip of his tea, allowing the peppermint to cool on his tongue before swallowing it down. He stared into Missouri’s deep eyes, steeling himself for the conversation. “He came to my house,” he murmured, his voice rough. Missouri leaned forward, crossing her hands over her knees. “He told me this wasn’t over...whatever _this_ was.” A broken sob forced its way up his throat. “I don’t know what to do.” He felt himself begin to hyperventilate and took a desperate sip of his tea.

“Why haven’t you gone to a therapist Castiel?” Missouri asked, her voice gentle.

Castiel scoffed, setting down his cup. “What for? Just to have them look at me with the same pity that they always do? Tell me that it’s not my fault and I just need to _journal_ about my _feelings_ ,” he spat.

Missouri crossed her legs at the knee, taking a sip of her own tea. “And do you think it’s your own fault?” she asked calmly, running her finger around the rim of the cup.

Castiel fidgeted. “No. Well, yes. Yeah, I do.”

“Why is that?”

He took another nervous sip of tea, wrapping his coat around his midsection. “I should have known. I put blinders on because it was my first real gay relationship. Or something. Even when things kept getting worse, I just kept telling myself that it was because of something else, not me.”

“But you’re not the only one he tricked, are you?” Missouri observed him with clear eyes that made Castiel squirm, feeling as though she were viewing the depths of his soul.

“Well...no, I guess not. My mom was enamored with him; still is. And Balthazar didn’t dislike him, he was just upset that he got to me first.”

“So I suppose it’s Balthazar’s fault, too. As well as your mother’s,” she said calmly.

Castiel jolted up, almost knocking over his tea. “What?! No! They didn’t even know that things were getting bad! They had no idea!”

“Did you?”

“Well, I mean, it was my first real relationship...I didn’t really have anything to compare it to.”

“So why is that your fault?” Missouri continued to regard him calmly, her legs crossed, and eyes focused.

“I...well, ugh I don’t know Missouri!” Castiel buried his face in his hands, tucking his legs underneath him.

A gentle hand rested on Castiel’s knee and he peered at it from between his fingers, trying to refrain from crying again. “Castiel,” Missouri said softly, her voice soothing over him. “You know you’re being irrational. I know that it’s hard. But I can only do so much, dear. I’m psychic, not a therapist.” Castiel released a shuddering breath, clenching and unclenching his fists. “I want you to be happy with Dean once you get this boy out of your life for good-which will be a struggle, mind you. but even then, it’s okay to get help. There’s nothing to be ashamed of for that.” Castiel sighed again, sitting straight. He gave Missouri a wobbly smile. “Thank you,” he said sincerely. “I’ll think about this; you know I will. I’ll get back to school. I can’t wait to see…”

Missouri only laughed, ushering him through the front door. “Get on Romeo, he’s just as excited!”

Dean walked into the apartment right as Castiel had thrown himself down onto his bed, his mind reeling from Missouri’s words. All of the anxiety that those words had produced though, was gone that instant he heard the door swing shut and Dean’s footsteps lumber down the hall to their room.

He sat back up, a grin splitting his face as Dean turned the corner. His blonde hair was rumpled, sticking out in every other direction, telltale of a long road trip. His green eyes met Castiel’s, bright and excited as he dropped his bags, wrapping his arms around Castiel’s lean frame.

Dean inhaled his scent, nuzzling his nose along the shell of Castiel’s ear, along his hairline. “God, I’ve missed you,” he murmured, splaying his hands across his lower back, anchoring him there.

Castiel hugged him back tighter, his face pressed into Dean’s chest, breathing in his musk and lightly scented laundry detergent. “The feeling’s mutual,” he replied softly.

Dean stepped back, holding him away at arm’s length as his gaze raked up and down his body. “Are you okay? He didn’t hurt you did he, because I swear to-”

Castiel cut him off, leaning forward to catch Dean’s lips with his own. His words died with a soft sigh of contentment as he brought Castiel close again, their lips moving languidly together. Dean stepped closer, gathering Castiel in his arms, holding him tightly as he tilted his head to the side a bit, running his tongue along Castiel’s lip. A slight gasp and then Dean was tasting his mouth, exploring, nibbling as Castiel melted in his arms, a shiver of pleasure dancing up his spine.

“Dean,” he gasped, pulling his head back. Dean was undeterred, ducking his head to kiss and bite lightly at the nape of his neck, soothing the bites with small licks as he made his way to his collarbone. Castiel got lost in the sensation of Dean sucking a small mark just under the hem of his T-shirt for a moment before he jerked away again. “Dean!”

“ _What_ ,” Dean whined breathlessly, his eyes focusing on Castiel’s lips. “I haven’t seen you for a week, I’ve been worried sick and I can’t stop thinking about your _lips_.”

Castiel’s breath hitched in his throat and for a moment, he forgot about his resolve entirely, his plans and responsibilities. “I have a test in my morning class tomorrow,” he said sadly, tracing Dean’s lip with a light thumb, smiling when Dean caught it between his teeth. “I just got back, so I haven’t even started studying.”

Dean took a step back, almost tripping over his dropped bags. “What do you mean you just got back? You texted me an hour ago telling me you were on campus.”

 _Shit_.

Only for a second, Castiel stumbled. “Yeah, I had to run out...with Gabriel. You know how he is,” the lie rolled off of his tongue, disconcertingly easy. His stomach twisted as he eyed Dean, gauging his reaction, his believability.

He relaxed when Dean shrugged, turning to grab his bags. “Ah, I was wondering why I hadn’t heard back from you.” Castiel glanced at his phone, seeing the blinking light of an unread message and winced. “Okay well. I’ll make a deal with you.” Castiel turned back to Dean, watching his face transform into a mischievous leer. “You go ahead and study for ah...oh, an hour and a half and then you and I can have some fun.”

Castiel laughed a little bit, sliding into his chair and opening his laptop. “I think that’s a lovely proposition Dean. I’ll get on that right now.” And Dean stood there, getting to watch as the humor fell from Castiel’s face, replaced by a determined look that always made him look a little bit constipated and that Dean grudgingly thought was cute as hell.

Castiel tried his hardest to focus, to memorize his terms and definitions, but it seemed he was hyperaware of Dean’s movement's behind him. He could hear Dean shuffling back and forth between his bed and dresser, stuffing clothes in haphazardly, hanging up his jacket. He could hear Dean humming lines from a song, chord progressions and he wanted to laugh; Dean and his music were inseparable.

He only managed to study for roughly forty-five minutes. Every time his focus wavered from the pages, his mind would be filled with the last time he and Dean were together, his gasps and moans. His jeans were becoming increasingly tighter, and he could feel a tiny bead of sweat begin at the juncture of his neck and shoulder.

Finally he stood, lurching from his desk, startling Dean, who was splayed across his bed, a textbook in hand. “Cas, what’s-” Castiel ripped the book from his hands, tossing it carelessly to the desk before clambering over Dean, gently easing his body over him before claiming his mouth.

Dean’s whole body relaxed, pulling Castiel closer to him as they kissed hungrily. Dean’s hands ran eagerly down Castiel’s sides, forcing his body to shiver and press closer. Dean’s hands rested lightly at his hips for a moment before tightening suddenly and he canted his own hips up.

Castiel threw his head back, releasing a deep moan, relishing in the friction. Dean took his chance, his lips latching greedily back to the spot he’d begun to work on earlier as Castiel grinded down on him, hips moving in short bursts. His mind was racing, elated at finally being with Dean again after vacation, after that dream that continued to taunt him every night afterwards.

“God Cas, don’t make that sound again, or else I’m gonna-” Dean’s lips were no longer attached to Castiel’s neck, and he was laying back on his pillow, admiring the dark bruise gracing Castiel’s collarbone.

Castiel leaned down, sucking Dean’s lower lip between his teeth, worrying it, licking softly before he moved over, tracing his tongue along his ear. “You’ll what, Dean?” his voice was breathy and sent heat straight to Dean’s dick and he thought he’d come right then and there.

Dean sighed, his fingers tightening on Castiel’s hips, slipping beneath the waistband of his pants. “Cas, please,” he whined, canting his hips up again. Castiel’s head fell into the crook of Dean’s neck and he struggled to breathe. He took a deep, stuttering breath before asking, “Cas, Cas, tell me what you want...what do you want?”

It was so hard for him, more difficult than he cared to admit, to ask the question. With girls, they would guide his hands where they wanted them, he could smell their wetness before he even reached their panties.

But they weren’t damaged like Castiel was. And Dean would damn his soul to hell if he ever caused him anymore damage than he’d already gone through.

Cas moaned, the sound vibrating in Dean’s ear. “Dean I want...I need...to feel you. _Please_ ,” the last word came through gritted teeth, his hips grinding insistently down on Dean’s.

“I’ll take care of you,” Dean mumbled his reply before pressing a nearly bruising kiss to Castiel’s lips. He rolled them over so that Castiel was on his back, lust darkened blue eyes staring up at Dean in adoration. He reached beneath Castiel, lightly tugging his shirt up and over his torso, his shoulders and off of his arms. As soon as the fabric hit the floor, Dean was over him, kissing, licking, biting over the newly exposed flesh. Castiel writhed beneath him as his teeth scraped over a nipple before his mouth followed and he was sucking greedily.

“Christ!” Castiel swore, his voice rough. “Dean don’t stop,” he demanded, clearing his throat, trying to maintain an even somewhat clear mind.

Dean laved at his nipple as his hands travelled down the length of his body, slowly undoing the button on his jeans, sliding them from his writhing hips. He sat back to pull them off, and paused for a moment.

Castiel was laid out in front of him, his hair splayed messily in a halo around his head. His blue irises were blown wide with lust, his lips red and plump, still wet from their kisses. He had a blossoming hickey under his collarbone and another right by his nipple where Dean had paused earlier. It was heady, it was awesome and he was sure that if he didn’t remove his own pants that moment, he would hurt something.

A few more short minutes of fumbling around and they were blessedly stripped down to their respective boxers. Dean was down  by Castiel’s hip, working on a third hickey, his hair clenched between shaking, sweaty fingers.

“Cas,” Dean whispered. “What do you want?” his voice was muffled slightly by Castiel’s skin, where a fresh bruise of red and purple was growing.

“You,” Castiel gasped, pulling Dean back up his body. “You, you, you,” He caught Dean’s mouth again, moving their lips together, sucking lightly at his tongue, pulling a harsh moan from him.

Ever so carefully, while still kissing, Dean tugged Castiel’s boxers off, only pulling away to throw them to the floor. Castiel practically attacked Dean, returning the favor until they were both gloriously naked, cocks red and dripping pre-cum. Castiel slowly pulled Dean back on top of him, their feverish kisses turned gentle and lazy. Dean hovered over him on his elbows, gently running his tongue over his lips between kisses, occasionally pulling his lower lip with a soft suck.

The mood shifted again though, when Dean leaned forward just a short amount, and the tips of their cocks brushed together. Castiel pulled his mouth from Dean’s, his hips thrusting up and a delicious moan working its way up his throat.

Dean’s resolve broke, downright shattered and he let his hips falled, aligning his cock with Castiel’s forcing free another one of the moans that made him tingle all the way down to his toes. His body was shaking as he thrust his hips into Castiel’s, smearing their liquids, smoothing the movement, soothing the friction.

Castiel cried out, his head pressed into the pillow, eyes squeezed shut as his hips moved seemingly on their own accord. Embarrassingly quickly, he could feel all his reasoning and thought short out, drowning in the white hot heat of his impending orgasm. “Dean,” he managed to gasp. “Dean! No...not like this.” Dean’s hips slowed as he stared down at him in confusion. “I want...you,” he was gasping for breath, fighting to get the words out, to keep his hips still as he said them.

Dean stilled and he felt some of the remaining blood that wasn’t down south rush towards his cheeks. He was stunned, he wasn’t sure how he was _supposed_ to react to that but he realized Castiel was getting uncomfortable when he squirmed a bit, causing Dean to hiss as their dicks made contact again. Some of the blood was making its way back to his brain and he found himself slightly more capable of thinking clearly.

“No,” he finally breathed out, meeting Castiel’s eyes.

His sapphire eyes hardened and his body tensed. “No?” he repeated, his voice curiously calm.

Dean leaned forward to nuzzle his neck, kiss at the shell of his ear. “No,” he said again. “When I get my chance to…make love to you. To fuck you, lazily and slowly, it’s going to be when you’re ready. And you’re not; not today.” his voice was quiet and he stumbled over his words a few times, trying to choose his words carefully.

Castiel stopped, feeling his body relax as he willed himself to meet Dean’s eyes again. “Why do you get to decide when I’m ready?” he asked, unable to keep the hurt from his voice.

Dean smiled softly at him, brushing their lips together. “I want to be able to sleep with you and wake up to you moaning my name in the middle of the night, and not crying. I want to be able to sleep with you without triggering a massive flashback,” he punctuated his words with a kiss here and there across Castiel’s face. “And I know it won’t happen immediately, and I don’t expect it to. But when it does? It will be so worth it.” He ground his hips against Castiel’s, eliciting a soft sigh that ended in a moan. “So for now? For now, we do this. And when you can’t sleep, or you’re feeling troubled,” he pushed his hips down again and Castiel’s teeth clenched, his head thrown back. “you’ll think of me. And how badly you want me, and how badly I want you and how willing I am to wait for you to be okay,” his voice dropped to a whisper with the last syllables.

Castiel groaned, unable to understand why Dean’s monologue had been so hot, hitting him in just the right places, his hips thrusting gently with each word until he was laying beneath him, thrashing, moving his hips up and trying to obtain more friction.

Dean finally let go, allowing his hips to move in tandem with Castiel’s, their cocks buried between their stomachs, sticky with pre-cum and sweat. Before he could stop himself, Castiel’s hips were stuttering, losing rhythm and white fluid spurted out between them, with a cry of, “ _Dean_!” drawn out into several syllables. Hearing his name of Castiel’s lips like that, the moan of ecstasy that followed, Dean grunted, freezing his cum joining Castiel’s on their stomachs.

Dean struggled to hold himself up, off of him but his arms were shaking. His head was bowed over Castiel and he gently pressed kisses to his exposed neck while he caught his breath.

“Dean,” Castiel finally gasped out. “That was...holy shit.”

Dean chuckled, finally pulling himself from the other boy, strings of cum spreading between them. “Trust me I know. But Christ, this is gross.”

Castiel merely scoffed, and swung himself off of the bed, wobbling slightly. He retrieved a washcloth and wet it down with warm water before gently scrubbing at Dean’s stomach, and then his own. He rinsed it and tossed it into the laundry, leaving he and Dean standing together, naked as the day they were born. Their eyes met for a moment before Dean stepped forward and gathered him into a hug.

“I mean what I said, Cas,” he murmured, massaging his back for a moment. “Every damn word. Don’t you doubt any of it.”

Castiel wasn’t sure if the shiver that went up his spine was from the cool air after having been beneath Dean and his heat, or if it was what he’d just said and how he’d said it. He couldn’t help the blush that rose to his cheeks and buried his face in Dean’s shoulder. “Okay,” he whispered. “Okay.”


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this chapter is a lot longer than the rest. I'm thinking two more chapters after this...

Dean and Castiel had been back at school for a week and had hardly gotten a chance to see one another. Dean had holed himself in the library with Jo trying to study for another exam he was desperate to pass. Castiel was in Balthazar's room, being quizzed in every free moment for his own exams.

The rest of Castiel's free time was spent doing his own research, checking his savings account and planning. He quietly confided in Balthazar, receiving a proud grin and an exclamation of encouragement.

And that was how, a week and a half after Thanksgiving break, Castiel found himself sitting in the office of a new therapist. A soft-faced woman sat in a chair by the desk, a clipboard in hand, watching Castiel. Her name was Gemma and she seemed friendly enough. He sat behind a table, flipping a pen nervously through his fingers.

"So can you tell me what happened, Castiel?" Her voice was gentle, prying, but not accusational.

"Don't you already know?" he blurted, his eyes trained on the pen twirling about.

Gemma smiled at him. "Yes, I do. But I'd like to hear what you have to say. I can't help you without hearing your own thoughts." And damn her, she had a point with that one.

He sighed, his eyes darting around the room. The office had colorful paintings all around the walls, with a bookshelf that was bowing underneath the weight of many books. "Well," he began. "I was raped. I was raped by someone I thought who cared about me."

* * *

 

Dean couldn’t find Castiel. He knew that his classes had gotten out at four, an hour before Dean’s, but now that he was in the dorm, he was nowhere to be found. His professor had just informed him that if he passed his final with at least a B, he’d have an A- in the class. He was pretty sure that his last A- was in kindergarten and he was buzzing from excitement over those words.

And annoyingly enough, Castiel was MIA and Dean was starting to feel the little icicles of panic begin to grow in his veins. He trusted Castiel, trusted him with all of his heart, but he didn’t trust the people around him. He didn’t trust PTSD and what it did to victims and survivors. He didn’t trust police officers, authority figures or even the general public to know what to do if Castiel had an episode.

With that, he left the dorm, nearly tripping over his own feet in his haste to get to Balthazar’s room. He ignored the cold and biting wind as he nearly sprinted to the other building, waited to slip in with other students who had a key and then finally, knocked incessantly at his door.

Balthazar opened the door slowly, his face unreadable. He didn’t have a shirt on, which caught Dean off guard; his eyes darting between Balthazar’s face and surprisingly chiseled abs before he remembered why he was here, guilt kicking him in the gut momentarily.

“Where’s Cas?”

Balthazar yawned lazily, taking his time with the reply. “He’s off-campus Dean. He’ll be back in…” he stretched around, eyeing the clock on the microwave. “Probably half an hour.”

Dean frowned, shifting nervously. “Well...where is he?”

Balthazar only sighed, shaking his head. “He’ll tell you when he’s ready. Word of advice though? Don’t hound him. He’s fine though, don’t you worry your lovesick little heart.”

Dean sputtered indignantly at that as the door swung shut in his face. The hint was taken, though, and he knew that Balthazar was too loyal to tell what Castiel wasn’t ready to. Thus, he found himself in Jo’s dorm (again) sprawled out on her couch (again), and instead of a pity pint of ice cream, they’d gone out and gotten him a mondo burger, which he was currently shoving into his mouth. Jo was watching him with a morbid curiosity, unable to believe the disgusting sounds he was making.

“I have no idea what anyone sees in you. You’re practically a neanderthal,” she winced as a giant glob of ketchup fell from Dean’s burger and into the paper covering his lap. Fittingly, he only grunted in response. Jo rolled her eyes, refocusing on the TV show they had met halfway to watch.

An hour later, Dean’s phone lit up.

 **Castiel** : _Where are you? :(_

Dean gritted his teeth, fighting away the guilt. He had promised Castiel earlier that morning that he’d be there in the evening and that they could cook burgers together for dinner.

 **Dean** : _I’m in Jo’s dorm._

He knew he should feel even more guilt for having kept his response that short, especially considering how badly he missed Castiel.

 **Castiel** : _When will you be back here?_

Dean sighed, crumpling the burger wrapper. He stood and stretched, groaning dramatically as his joints popped. “I’ll see you later Jo.”

She barely glanced away from the television. “Trouble in paradise?” she asked, only the smallest hint of sarcasm lacing her words.

Dean snorted, “Never.”

When he got back to the dorm, he opened the door to find Castiel sitting at the table in the kitchen, a pile of books that didn’t look remotely like his textbooks for class sitting in front of him. “How’s this for an answer?” he asked, wrapping his arms around Castiel’s shoulders, pressing a kiss to his neck.

Castiel’s nose wrinkled and he pulled out of Dean’s grasp. “You ate without me,” he accused, glaring.

Dean’s gaze immediately lowered and he stepped away. “I didn’t know where you were,” he mumbled. “Balthazar wouldn’t tell me either, so, I guess I just…”

Castiel couldn’t help the anger that boiled up within him, no matter how irrational he knew that it was. He stood from his seat, his fists clenched as he tried to gather his words. _Dean isn’t psychic. It’s only natural for him to worry, to be put off…_ “If it’s really that big of a deal, this is where I was.” He pulled the receipt from his session from his pocket and jabbed it into Dean’s chest.

Dean fumbled before unfolding it and reading.

_Castiel Novak, 21, student. Behavioral services. Copay: $35.00_

He stood there, frozen, rereading the page before looking up to meet Castiel’s somber blue eyes. “Of course that’s a big deal,” he said softly. “I...Cas, I’m sorry you didn’t feel you could tell me,” the words tumbled out awkwardly as he laid the slip of paper on the table.

Castiel bit his lip, propping himself up on the edge of the table. “I was just nervous, I guess.”

“Why?” Dean had to fight to keep the accusation out of his voice.

Castiel shrugged. “I wasn’t sure if you wanted to be a part of it...I don’t want you to feel obligated, you know? I want you there, but-”

“You never asked me,” That time, the hurt was evident and Castiel looked up, meeting Dean’s eyes, watching the sadness seep into them.

A half-hearted chuckle fell from him and he swiped a clammy hand over his face. “Yeah, I know. I’m sorry. I guess we suck at this, don’t we?”

Dean laughed with him, feeling some of the ice that had built within him recede a bit. “Yeah, we do. But we can get better. What can I do?” the words were so sincere, so genuine, that Castiel had to pause and process them. Dean actually wanted to be a part of this. This was real.

“Well, I’m pretty sure I blew a paycheck on books.” He held one out to Dean. _Life As A Survivor._ “Gemma-she’s my therapist- told me to invest in a few. I may have over-invested. But there were so many and I just...I wanted to try them all.”

He looked at Dean earnestly as he read over the back and flipped through the pages, humming a little bit. “This is pretty cool,” he murmured. “There’s like worksheets for couples to fill out together and goals and stuff and…” he looked up, suddenly realized what that might mean. “Do you...do you want me to do these with you?” he asked.

A blush rose to Castiel’s cheeks. and he kicked at the edge of the table. “Do I need to scream it from the rooftops for you?”

Dean gathered him in a crushing hug. “No,” he whispered into Castiel’s ear. “Not at all. This is perfect.”

Castiel pushed him away, laughing. “You say that too much. Come on, let’s start one.” They did an eenie-meenie-miney-mo to choose which workbook they’d start with and ended up on Dean’s bed, hip to hip, shoulder to shoulder, reading together about recovery and survival.

The following weeks, Dean felt he and Castiel grow closer. They oftentimes stayed up long after midnight, in their respective beds, talking. Castiel told Dean about Avery and Balthazar, what it was like growing up with Gabriel, what he wanted to do with his degree. Dean told Castiel about how he and Sam’s father had been admitted into rehab several years ago, dumping the boys with Bobby and Ellen, never to contact them again. It was comfortable and comforting. If Castiel woke from a nightmare, Dean was leaning over his bed, running a gentle hand through his hair until he felt stable enough to reach over to the side table and grab his journal.

Slowly-painfully so- the nightmares were decreasing, the flashbacks were getting less and less intense. By the last day of classes prior to Christmas break, Dean and Castiel had finished one workbook and had eagerly began another. Castiel was seeing Gemma regularly, attacking his insecurities, fears and triggers. He always left his appointments emotionally drained, yet paradoxically lighter. Dean always met him at the Starbucks down the street from the campus, buying him a sugar-laden coffee and treat, occasionally talking about the appointment, but mostly they sat together and people-watched as Castiel allowed his mind to return to the present.

The day before they were to leave for break, Gabriel called.

“So uh, I’ve never told you this, but your friends are fucking _weird_ , Cas,”

Castiel frowned, leaping off of his bed and walking to the common room, Dean only glancing up at him slightly as he left. “What do you mean, Gabriel?”

“What’s his name? Avery? He’s at my apartment.”

It was as if all of the oxygen had been sucked out of the room. His phone clattered to the floor, jolting Dean from his desk, knocking the chair out from underneath him. He found Castiel curled up on the floor, shaking, tears streaming down his face. Dean located his cell phone, which Gabriel was currently yelling through.

“Gabe? Gabe, you there?” Dean tried to get his attention.

Gabriel looked at his phone, puzzled, before replying. “Yeah. Where’d Cas go?”

Dean took a deep breath, glancing at Castiel’s shaking form and made a decision that he prayed he wouldn’t regret later. “Gabriel, you need to call the police.”

* * *

 

The next two hours were a blur. Dean ended up calling an ambulance, unable to rouse Castiel from his shock. He almost punched a doctor in the face for not allowing him in the room with Castiel until Balthazar came sprinting in and quietly explained the situation. Gemma had shown up, looking absolutely frazzled, her hair wind-blown and frizzy. She impatiently shoved the hospital’s psychologist out of the way, going to Castiel’s side, barely acknowledging Dean.

“Castiel? Castiel, it’s Gemma, can you talk to me?”

Castiel’s unfocused blue eyes met hers for a moment before drifting away again. “He’s here,” he whimpered. “He’s here to hurt me again.” His voice was broken and Dean wanted to find Avery and rip his lungs out of his chest.

“No, no, sweetheart,” Dean crooned. “He won’t hurt you.” He looked up at Gemma, hoping for some kind of encouragement. She nodded hastily. “He’s not going to hurt you. You’re perfectly safe, Cas. Safe.”

In the back of his mind, he was somewhere else, some time else, in a hospital room with a ten-year old Sam. Fractured ribs, a sprained wrist and a twisted ankle. His uninjured hand was strapped to the bars on the bed because every time someone entered the room, his confused mind was positive that it was their father, John, determined to hurt him again and he lashed out like he had the devil in him. Dean stood outside of the room, staring from behind a wall of glass, desperate to do something, anything to get rid of the twisted expression on his face.

_“Don’t let him hurt me again Dean. Please, please, I don’t want him to hurt me again,”_

Almost verbatim, those same words were falling from Castiel’s mouth, a plead, a demand, a bargain and Dean lurched out of the seat, ready to storm from the room. It was only Gemma’s insistent hand on his shoulder that kept him from stepping into the hallway. “Where are you going?” her voice was firm, yet it held no threat, no accusation, only curiosity and concern.

Dean whirled, pinning her with a dark look. “I’m going to find that poor excuse for a human being,” he growled. “And I am going to _kill_ him and I am going to make him wish that he had never been born."

"No. No you are not. Young man, right now you are going to sit your pretty little ass in that seat and remind your boyfriend that everything will be okay and that _you will not be going anywhere_. Is that clear?" Gemma's voice took on that of a drill Sergeant, freezing Dean to the spot.

Dean grudgingly met her eyes and shuffled back to Castiel's bedside. "Yes ma'am," he mumbled.

He picked Castiel's hand up, meeting his frightened eyes, trying to convey all the reassurance he felt that he couldn't possibly put into words. He could hear Gemma out in the hall, speaking with police officers and Gabriel. He clasped Castiel’s hand between his, pulling it to his forehead as he leaned over the edge of the bed. “I swear to God I’m not going anywhere,” he finally murmured. “I’m with you through hell and back. You gotta come out of this man, I need you.” His voice cracked. “I need you.”

The floodgates in his eyes opened and he was sobbing over Castiel, holding onto his hand as though it were a lifeline, the only thing holding him to the Earth at that moment. He was vaguely aware of Sam’s presence joining the room, a heavy hand on his shoulder, anchoring him in the surefire way that he always did. Nonetheless, Dean remained attached to Castiel, who was still viewing the world through glassy, unfocused eyes.

Dean wasn’t sure when he had fallen asleep. He knew that it was light out when they had gotten to the hospital and as he peeled his eyes open, he fought to let his sight adjust to the now dim hospital room as he stretched up, cracking his neck. He blinked and turned, seeing Castiel staring at him, his eyes practically glowing in the dark.

“Hey you,” Dean croaked, his voice rough from lack of use. “You’re awake. How are you feeling?”

Castiel blinked, eerily calm. “I’m very hungry. It’s two in the morning,” he said matter-of-factly.

Dean stared at him for a short moment. “Right. Food. Coming right up.” As quickly as he could, he was up and out of the room, seeking out the night nurse. He found her, hunched over a cart, filling out a sheet of paper. “Uh, um, miss?” she turned to look at him. “Uh...in room 208...he’s awake. And hungry.”

The nurse smiled at him gently. “I can only give him crackers dear, hospital policy.”

Dean cracked a small smile. “That’d be perfect.” He followed her to the desk at the end of the hallway, watching as she rustled through a drawer. As she handed him the small package, he suddenly blurted, “He’s being really weird.”

She merely raised an eyebrow at him, the corner of her mouth quirking into a small smile. “I can assure you, dear, he’s fine. We gave him a pretty heavy duty sedative when he came in, so it’s likely that he’s just coming back from outer space.”

Dean’s voice was small when he asked, “So he’ll be okay?”

She placed a reassuring hand on his shoulder. “You can bet your bottom dollar.”

Castiel had shifted his bed into some kind of sitting position and was fighting with his IV and and heart monitor to reach the cup of water on the table next to him. Dean carefully lifted it within arms length and Castiel snatched it up, water dribbling down his wrists as he greedily drank it.

“I got you crackers,” Dean said halfheartedly.

Castiel smiled emptily at him. “Thank you.”

He fell back asleep around four in the morning. He filled the empty air with random facts about nothing, informing Dean that his stomach had just grumbled quite loudly and that he’d woken up from a nightmare of Avery beating him. All was said with an eerie calm, as though he were giving a lecture and not confiding in Dean.

When they woke again, it was ten AM and Dean had one hell of a crick in his neck. Just like earlier, Castiel was merely staring at him, but this time, rather than a dead look on his face, he was graced with an affectionate small smile.

“You stayed all night,” he murmured.

Dean could only nod. “Of course I did. I wouldn’t...I wasn’t going anywhere.”

Castiel leaned forward, pushing himself off of the bed a bit, as though to kiss him, when the door to the room burst open, Gabriel, Anna, Castiel’s mother and the doctor filing in.

Dean’s hand was suddenly caught between two tight, clammy hands and he was being yanked away from Castiel. “Thank you so very much. I have no idea who you are but you saved my little boy and-”

Dean backpedaled, reeling. “I didn’t save him,” he stated flatly. “I just…” _I’ve done this before._

She cocked her head to the side, reminiscent of Castiel when he didn’t understand something. “We didn’t know,” she said softly. “We had no idea and you...you changed that. I’m Castiel’s mother, Michele.”

Dean shook her hand this time. “Nice to meet you. I’m Dean, Castiel’s…”

What was he to Castiel? Friend? Lover? Support? “Boyfriend,” he broke in from the bed. “Dean is my boyfriend.” Anna couldn’t contain her squeal of joy at that.

“Oh, Cassie,” she huffed. “I am so glad you’re okay. God I was terrified!”

Castiel could only stare at Anna, feeling that irrational anger building up within him again. She had no _idea_ what terrified even was. Terrified was when Castiel was only 15 years old and realizing he’d been drugged. Terrified was when he came to school and realized he’d fallen head over heels for his asshole roommate. Terrified was seeing his rapist in his own house again after so many years. Terrified was that phone call from Gabriel, reminding him that he couldn’t hide.

It was Dean’s hand slipping into his again that brought him back down. “I’m sorry,” he finally mumbled.

“Oh, sweetheart, what for?” Michele’s hands fluttered in her distress.

Castiel frowned. “For not telling you guys.”

Gabriel’s voice suddenly boomed over the others. “Don’t you worry about that baby bro. That fucker is behind bars and they’re working out a court date soon.” Castiel winced and their mother scolded Gabriel quickly.

Further conversation was cut off by the doctor and there was a flurry of movement and discussion as they worked out Castiel’s discharge and Christmas plans. Sam and Gemma appeared out of nowhere, discouraging Dean from trying to spend Christmas with Castiel. He grudgingly agreed, only when Michele said that Castiel could spend New Years with the Winchesters.

And then they were outside of the hospital, Dean holding Castiel to his chest against the cold, pressing repeated kisses to his temple, reminding him to text, to call, that he wasn’t going anywhere. Gabriel had to gently pry Castiel from Dean and walk him to the car.

* * *

 

It was late that night when Dean realized that the next day was Christmas Eve. He had forgotten all about the holiday in light of the recent events, barely acknowledging the tree that they had all put up before leaving after Thanksgiving.

 **Dean** : _What do you want for Christmas?_

It was almost midnight, Dean wasn’t sure if Castiel would be-

 **Castiel:** _Put a bow on your head and you’ll make me the happiest man alive._

Dean snorted.

 **Dean:** _Well gee, I could have done that a long time ago. Any other requests?_

 **Castiel** : _Anything is fine, truly. Having you is a gift in and of itself._

Dean felt his heart do a funny little stutter before speeding up. A goofy, sleepy grin grew on his face before he replied; _goodnight Cas_. He hit send before he realized that he felt that the text was missing something, that he should have added something onto it before sending it over the airwaves. But it was too late, Castiel had already replied with his typical _goodnight, Dean_. And Dean could practically hear his gravelly voice when he read it, those blue eyes searing on the back of his eyelids as he fell asleep.

It was as if his body was programmed to know when it was the eve of Christmas. He always woke earlier than he ever had, seven AM sharp, finishing his shower and dressing by 7:45. The timing was immaculate, as Sam had just let out a bone-jarring yawn from his own room.

“Sammy!” Dean thundered, opening his door, jolting Sam from whatever half-asleep comfort he was relishing in. “Up and at ‘em! We’ve got shit to do!”

Sam merely grunted at him, flopping back down on his bed. “Dean, it isn’t even eight in the morning, why are you alive?”

Dean pouted. “I’m hurt Sammy. Besides, I need your help!”

Sam pulled the blanket over his head, groaning. “Then get Jo! She can probably help you better!”

As if on cue, Jo swung around the corner, leaping onto Sam, coaxing a yelp of terror. “One step ahead of you Sam!” she cried, laughing, yanking the blankets away from him and throwing the pillows to the floor.

That was how Sam got roped into Christmas shopping with his long-time friend and brother. Jo got him out of bed by reminding him that he had yet to get something for Jess, which had him scrambling for the shower, desperate to get to the mall before someone else snatched up the potentially perfect gift he had to find.

Castiel was woken hours later by Gabriel pelting him with candy canes, demanding that he get up and help their mother with breakfast. For a brief moment, it was as if the previous day had never happened at all and their dynamic was the same as it had always been. But the second he got into the kitchen, he realized that it was too good to be true. Michele sat at the kitchen table, a folder and its contents laid out in front of her.

She looked up at him somberly. “I know it’s Christmas Eve sweetheart, but we need to talk.” Without a word, he sat across her. Even upside down, he could see the contents of the folder were from his hospital stay so many years back, receipt after receipt for the bills he paid in secret, and something new-the police orders and court date information. “We’re pressing charges.”

Castiel’s head snapped up, the fear he thought he could escape from renewing within him. His mother pressed on anyways. “He came looking for you. That’s harassment. He came to your home, to your _school_. The second he involved your family, it was no longer something personal.” Castiel still hadn’t spoken, his eyes were now glued to the table, to the piece of paper that went through everything he’d been tested for that horrendous day he’d hobbled into the hospital. “Castiel. Please talk to me.”

He wetted his lips, steeling himself. “I’m scared,” he muttered. The rest of the words spilled out, seemingly outside of his control. “I didn’t want you guys to know I had screwed up so royally right after I came out. I didn’t want you guys to think I was stupid. I was sure if I could just ignore him and graduate, I could leave and never see him again. I could forget all about him. And he took that from me. He ruined _everything_! It’s _his_ fucking fault that I can’t sleep through the night! It’s his fault I spent so long wanting to _die_!” Before he was aware, he was curled in his seat, sobs wracking his body, hurting his chest. He was hardly aware of Gabriel and Anna’s soothing presence surrounding him, Anna dabbing lightly at the tears streaming openly down his cheeks.

It was Gabriel’s rumbling voice that brought him out of his head, helped him breathe a bit easier. “Don’t you worry about a thing. Cas. We still love you, and that bastard is going to be locked up for a _very_ long time.”

He snorted in response to that, a half laugh, a half sniffle. Anna spoke next. “And mom’s going to start paying for your therapy from here on out, and she already deposited all of the money from your hospital stay back into your account.”

Castiel gasped, almost knocking his head into Anna’s, looking at his mother. “Mom? Why would you do that?”

She gave him a wobbly smile. “You’re my baby,” she whispered. “And you went through that all by yourself. Why wouldn’t I do that?” With that, Castiel was crying again, sobbing into his brother’s shoulder.

 


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have absolutely no knowledge whatsoever of classic rock albums and their popularity, so please bear with the stumbling for the purpose of the plot!

“I’m picking Cas up tomorrow _night_ ,” Dean growled, pacing back and forth in front of the bench. “And I _still_ don’t have any idea what I’m getting him!”

Sam and Jo sat on the bench, regarding Dean calmly. They’d been at the mall already for an hour now, and Sam had found a beautiful amethyst pendant for Jess with matching earrings. Jo ruined his perfect find with a condom recommendation, making Dean laugh loudly enough to draw the attention of several of the clerks.

“Well, what does he like?” Jo asked, probably for the third time.

Dean yanked a hand through his hair. “That’s the thing! I don’t actually know! We didn’t ever really talk about ourselves. We just exchanged childhood stories and embarrassing shit and made out.”

Sam winced. “Too much info, Dean.”

Jo hopped up. “Maybe we’re cramping your style. Go take another round through all of the stores. Sam and I will take a break at Starbucks. We’ll see you there in an hour.”

Dean watched dejectedly as they wandered off in the opposite direction. He was so screwed.

It took another forty minutes and an argument with an irritating clerk, but Dean was sure he had found it, Castiel’s perfect gift. It was on a thick, sterling silver chain, masculine, but clean. The pendant was a small cut sapphire in a cage of wire. Suspended on either side of the cage were very small, very intricate wings. Next to the pendant was a plaque about being set free and remaining grounded. Dean was sure he’d never fumbled for his wallet so quickly.

And if he had a little pep in his step and a puff to his chest when he walked to Starbucks, then oh well.

Castiel, on the other hand, was still panicking. It took a shower and five pancakes to convince his mother that he was okay to go out, and that was only when Gabriel decided that he wanted to do some last minute shopping as well.

That’s how he found himself in the middle of a Dunkin Donuts, Gabriel calmly drinking a poor excuse for coffee (which was mostly just whipped cream and sugar) while Castiel glared angrily at his uneaten sandwich. “He’s going to think I never paid attention to him at all,” he wailed mournfully.

Gabriel set down his coffee cup and raised an eyebrow. “Chill out brother. Let’s go back to the mall. We didn’t check out that new store.”

Castiel snorted. “That’s because it was full of smelly kids who didn’t know how to wash their clothes.”

“And you’re going to let that stop you from finding the perfect gift for your boyfriend? How unlike you.”

The store that Castiel had so vehemently avoided going into was a brand new record store, but it didn’t look one bit like that at all. It was musty-smelling and all of the colors were faded, the lights dim and flickering. It was indeed full of a younger crowd with worn-out hoodies and vests, reeking of cigarette smoke and cheap cologne. Gabriel had abandoned Castiel at the entrance, reminding his frazzled younger brother that he had a boyfriend to shop for, not the other way around.

Castiel meandered through the rows and rows of records, occasionally bumping into jacketed shoulder or two. He found himself staring down at a pile of Led Zeppelin records, a big vintage sign posted over them.

“You into the Zepp, man?” a kid materialized at his side, a green mohawk and dark eyeliner startling Castiel.

He shook his head quickly. “Uh, no, actually not really. But, um, my boyfriend is. He’s sort of obsessed.”

The kid raised an eyebrow, huffing out a laugh. “At least you got good taste in men. Let’s see here…” with nimble fingers he began to flick through the dusty records, humming under his breath. “How about _Houses of The Holy_. That’s a pretty hard vintage to find, I’m sure he’ll shit his pants over this.”

Castiel’s eyes widened when the record was held out to him. “Um, yeah, sure. Uh, thank you, by the way,” he stumbled over his words, unsure of how to handle the situation.

The kid smiled, showing a set of gleaming white teeth. “Anything for a fellow fan.”

Castiel took the record and walked awkwardly to the front of the store, his eyes still taking in everything he came across. Just before he reached the register though, something on the shelf caught his eye. It was a slightly scuffed and worn-looking Storm Trooper helmet, but upon closer observation, it turned out to be a tape deck and CD player. Dean spent a lot of time complaining that he couldn’t find a good tape deck to play his tapes in the dorms. Castiel stood a little straighter, and grabbed that as well.

Christmas Eve at the Novak house was an emotional event. They watched a classic black and white movie, their mother swiped tears from her eyes, hiding behind her hand. Anna and Gabriel had Castiel huddled between the two of them. After the movie ended, their mother hugged each of her children tightly before sending them off to their bedrooms.

At the Winchester/Harvelle home, it was quite a loud affair. Ellen and Bobby were arguing about how to cook the chicken for dinner the next day and how they were to time everything with Dean leaving to pick Castiel up midday. Jo had bought a bulk box of condoms and was running around the house, pelting both Dean and Sam with them, cackling maniacally. It finally took a roar from Ellen that sent the three young adults to the living room, and had Bobby sitting at the dining room, tail between his legs as she laid down the plan for Christmas day.

Sam, Jo, and Dean all fell asleep in the living room, throw blankets thrown over them as an afterthought by Ellen. They all suddenly looked younger in the light from the tree, the soft glow of the television. Jo was curled into Dean’s side, the same way she used to sleep as a child, crawling up the armchair to squeeze in next to him. Sam was sprawled out over the couch, one arm over his face, snoring quietly. Bobby squeezed Ellen’s shoulder affectionately, leading them to their bedroom.

Castiel woke up with a mouthful of confetti and Gabriel’s dopey grin leaning over him. He was getting ready to launch his pillow, but a threatening yell from downstairs forced the two of them to break apart, pausing the antics momentarily. They joined their mother and Anna in the living room, Castiel picking confetti bits out of his teeth.

Michele handed them both a cup of coffee, Castiel’s black, Gabriel’s practically white with a healthy dollop of whipped cream on top. They both eased back into the couch, relishing their drinks. “You first, Anna.”

Her squeals of joy each time she opened a gift warmed Castiel’s heart. And then it was Gabriel’s turn, who let out a guffaw at each of the prank gifts he’d received and a heartfelt smile at the ones that were really gifts. Castiel made his mother open her gifts next, unable to contain his joy when she opened her gift from all three of her children, a collage of photos of all of them. Tears flowed freely and she grasped them all in a tight hug.

“Your turn kiddo,” Gabriel grunted when he was able to pull free from their mother’s grasp.

Castiel grabbed Anna’s present first, neatly wrapped with an intricate bow tied on top. He carefully tore at the paper, revealing a boxed set of his favorite classics, hardcover, collector’s edition. He clasped a hand over his mouth, aware that this had to have been obscenely expensive. He hugged the books to his chest, thanking Anna profusely. Gabriel’s gift was a box of condoms, flavored lube and a guide to BDSM, which Castiel hurried to hide from his mom, muttering something about causing bodily harm to his brother.

Castiel’s final gift was a small box, light in weight, not especially standing out. He looked at his mother curiously and she only waved her hands, urging him to open it. He did, and a small piece of paper fluttered out.

A full year of self-defense lessons at the local MMA dojo next to the campus. Castiel swallowed, guilt suddenly raging up inside of him. He could only imagine how his mother had felt, could only imagine her sifting through the last several years, pinpointing exactly where Castiel had changed and now she knew why. She couldn’t protect her baby the way she was meant to, and now was the only chance she could make up for it, or even pretend to.

Castiel wasn’t sure how to thank his mother without bursting into tears, but Gabriel, sensing something overly-emotional coming again, pelted Anna with a wad of paper, causing her to cry out in irritation, rolling over to pin him to the ground, trying to stuff the same wad into his mouth.

A tear slid down Michele’s cheek as she watched Castiel join, holding Gabriel’s legs down, laughing with his siblings.

Hours later, after their brunch and a hasty clean up, Castiel was opening the front door to a frazzled, slightly nervous-looking Dean. He was wearing a button-up in exchange for his usual flannel shirt and leather jacket. His hair looked wind-blown, but clean. Nerves aside, his green eyes were alight with excitement.

Michele pulled Castiel aside, yanking Dean into the warmth of their home. She thrust a travel mug of coffee into his hands. “For the road, dear,” she explained. She shoved a small box into his jacket pocket as well. “Open it when you and Castiel exchange gifts,” she smiled.

“Uh, Ms. Novak, that’s really unnecessary,” Dean stammered, frozen to the spot.

She tutted, pressing her hand to Dean’s face. “Nonsense. You saved my baby.” Dean blinked, unsure of what to say to that. He swallowed, his adam’s apple bobbing. “Now. You drive safely, and you let me know the second you and my son are off the roads. I trust you Dean Winchester, understand me?”

“Yes ma'am.” The words bubbled from him before he realized what he was saying, the knee-jerk reaction to that tone of voice coming from any woman older than he.

She smiled gently. “Have a good New Year,” she directed at Castiel, pressing a kiss to his cheek, shooing him out the door.

Two and a half hours later, they were at the door of Dean’s house, Ellen ushering them both in, the house warm and smelling of hot cocoa.

“Castiel!” Ellen gushed. “It’s so nice to finally meet you. Come in, sit down!” she ushered the boys into the kitchen where Bobby was slaving over the stove. He wiped his hands on his jeans and turned to look at Castiel.

He was wearing a white buttoned shirt, with that ridiculously messy tie around his neck for no other purpose than he knew Dean liked it. His dark hair was mussed, blue eyes bright and a little bit nervous. Bobby stuck his hand out. “Nice to meetcha boy. Cas, right?”

“Yes, sir,” Castiel bit out, his voice shaking a little bit.

Bobby appraised him a few moments longer. “Keep your eye out on that idjit. He’s a dumbass sometimes.”

Dean snorted into his cup of hot chocolate, accidentally inhaling some, choking. Castiel’s eyes widened and he tried not to laugh as he gave Bobby one firm nod. Ellen chuckled into her hand, shooing Bobby from the kitchen. “Dinner will be ready shortly, boys. Dean, show your beau around.”

“He’s not my-! Yes ma’am.” Dean slipped his hand into Castiel’s linking their fingers, and pulled him from the kitchen. “Living room,” he said simply. “Antics ensue here.” Castiel could see the remnants of their Christmas morning, not fully cleaned up yet. “Bathroom…” He dragged them up the stairs. “Other bathroom...Ellen and Bobby...Jo- _don’t_ go in there...Sammy’s room also known as nerd heaven. And the only place you’ll really care for; my room!” he swung open his door with a flourish, allowing Castiel to step in ahead of him.

Castiel walked in slowly, dropping his bags on the floor. He took in all the rock band posters, photos of Dean, Sam and Jo throughout the ages. The room smelled of laundry detergent and a hint of cologne. The walls were a deep blue, a dent in the paint right next to the door, and a small illegible carving right beneath the window sill.

Castiel turned to Dean, gathering him in his arms, burying his face in the familiarity of Dean. He felt arms wrap around him, squeezing him back just as tightly. Dean had his nose buried in Castiel’s hair, reveling in finally being able to hold him again.

Suddenly, Castiel shoved Dean backwards, sending him stumbling backwards to his bed. Dean barely had time to catch himself on the edge without tripping. “Gift exchange,” Castiel stated, with far too much seriousness. He turned to dig through his bag, setting aside a stack of papers before pulling out a box that was way too large.

Dean’s eyes widened and he stared at the quite small box he had pulled from his desk. “Cas, you didn’t…”

“Shut up,” Castiel demanded. “And open it, before I determine myself at inept at shopping for you.”

When Dean saw the Storm Trooper helmet, he morphed into a child, giddily pulling it from the box and hitting all the buttons he could, eagerly plugging it into his wall and popping in a Metallica tape. The speakers obviously worked well because it took one loud, jarring guitar riff to jolt Castiel so hard he almost fell off of the bed. Dean turned it off, laughing apologetically.

When he saw the Led Zeppelin album he was speechless, save for, “this is the only one I didn’t have” very quietly.

Castiel leaned forward, curious. “So...you like them? I did well?”

Dean pressed his forehead to Castiel’s gentling cradling his face between his hands. “Perfect,” he breathed, pressing a sweet, chaste kiss to his mouth. Castiel sighed into the kiss, feeling relief flood him.

“Your turn,” Dean whispered, handing over the small box.

Castiel frowned at it, unraveling the delicate ribbon and sliding the top off. His breath caught in his throat as he read the small hand-written note that Dean had snuck into the box.

 _I want to be there to see you fly_ was all it said but it was enough for Castiel’s vision to blur with tears. He lifted the chain out of the box, allowing the pendant to swing freely, catching the overhead light and throwing crystals over the walls.

“Did I do okay?” Dean asked quietly, staring cautiously at Castiel.

Shiny blue eyes turned to focus on him. Castiel sniffled a little bit, looking down at his lap. He tried to laugh and it got caught in his throat. “It...It’s more than I could have asked for, Dean,” he choked out.

Dean swiped at his nose, trying to keep a lid on the sudden flood of emotions. “Here,” he said gruffly. “Lemme put it on,” he reached around Castiel with either side of the chain in hand, linking it gently at the base of Castiel’s neck, settling the cool metal on his neck.

Just like that, Castiel was clamboring over Dean, kissing him with a fervor Dean was sure he had never experienced. Castiel ran his tongue along the seam of Dean’s lips, swallowing his gasp, the other soft sounds he made when he relaxed into the kiss. His hands roved over Dean’s sides restlessly, teasing the hem of his shirt, pressing into his hips. He pressed a particularly sensitive spot and Dean let out a yelp, breaking away from the kiss and sending them both tumbling to the floor.

Dean grunted, rolling away from Castiel and onto the stack of paper that had been set aside. “Oh my god,” Castiel blurted. “Dean I seriously had no idea you were ticklish and...Dean?”

Dean was sitting up, having entirely forgotten about the accidental tickle, holding some of the papers as he read over them.

_How to have sex again_

_Taking control in the sack!_

_Give him what he wants...get what you want!_

“Oh, shit,” Castiel breathed. “Dean it’s not what-”

Green eyes jerked up to meet his. “Don’t lie to me,” Dean said quietly, dropping his eyes back to the printed out articles, with little notes scribbled in the margins. “If you..if you think you’re ready to take that step, then tell me. That day I stopped you…” he took a deep breath, gazing at the ceiling. “I did it because I know where you were, man. You wanted me to make you forget, to take it all away, replace a bad memory with a better one.”

Castiel was holding his breath as Dean continued. “And I can’t be that for you. Like I said, I want to see you fly. I don’t just want to patch up your wings, but I want to see you fly. I’m here for the long haul. So we can take as long as we need getting to that step. I just want you to be okay. It’s not about the sex.”

Guilt and regret chewed at Castiel’s insides. Dean’s words were so genuine, so sincere it made him _ache_. He stared at the carpet, picking at an errant thread before looking back up. “I’m sorry,” he whispered.

Dean clasped his face between his hands, pulling his head up so that their eyes met. Castiel’s were deep and sad, Dean’s filled with nerves. “Don’t apologize,” he murmured. “Shit happens. But if we’re going to take that step, no matter when it might be, I need you to trust me.”

Castiel nodded and Dean pulled him into the sweetest, gentlest kiss he thought he’d ever felt in his life. “Let’s go downstairs,” he murmured against Castiel’s lips. “And see if we can get Sam to wet his pants.”

It was by far the most interesting and loudest Christmas dinner Castiel had ever experienced. A slice of chicken somehow ended up staining the ceiling, Jo accidentally dropped the cranberry sauce in Sam’s lap and Bobby’s laughter at the whole situation filled the house as Ellen stood over the table, glowering.

Castiel couldn’t remember smiling so much.

Nighttime found he and Dean in Dean’s room, sitting on the bed with Metallica playing softly from the Storm Trooper helmet. They held between them one of the articles that Castiel had printed out. “Are you sure you want to try this?” He asked. “You don’t...I know you’ve never been with a guy-”

Dean smirked at him. “Parties and I didn’t get along, remember?”

Castiel looked down, red painting his cheeks. How could he have forgotten? Dean abandoned him that once and he decided it was a good idea to party all of the time. “Well, I mean...how far-?”

It was Dean’s turn to blush. “Not all the way, Cas,” he mumbled, picking at his jeans.

With that, Castiel kicked the papers to the floor, pushing Dean to lay down. He flailed backwards, startled, and Castiel followed, pressing butterfly soft kisses to his neck. Dean’s hands fluttered up to rest lightly under the hem of his T-shirt. “Cas, I-”

“Shhh,” Castiel hushed him, finally kissing his lips, sending a hot flash of lightning straight to his groin. The kisses were gentle; light flicks of their tongues, soft presses of teeth, the sharing of breaths between gasps. It was only a few short minutes before they were stripped down to their boxers, the rest of their clothing thrown haphazardly to the end of the bed. Dean hadn’t even realized that Castiel had laced their fingers together, dragging his arms over his head.

He flinched when he felt a smooth fabric looping around his wrists. His eyes jerked open to see Castiel staring calmly down at him, sapphire pendant swinging erratically between them. “You can tell me to stop anytime,” he breathed.

Dean closed his eyes again, allowing Castiel to tie his hands to the headboard as he breathed deeply. “One last thing.”

Castiel sat back, producing another tie from god-knows-where and gently looped it around Dean’s head, the last thing he saw being deep blue eyes, staring at him lustily. He gasped, the sound falling from him unwillingly.

“Are you worried?” Castiel finally asked. Dean shook his head quickly, not trusting his voice to hold. “If you say stop...I’ll stop.”

With that, he sat back again, observing what was beneath him. Dean laid under him, legs spread wide, his arms held over his head, accentuating his triceps as he shifted. His adam’s apple bobbed as he laid there, waiting for it to begin.

Castiel leaned forward, hungrily kissing Dean. He gasped, and Castiel licked at his tongue, his teeth. Dean, being ever-so-willing and compliant down to the last letter on the pages they’d read, allowed Castiel to remain dominant, never fighting for power in the kiss, only taking what he was receiving. Hands roved along his sides and he couldn’t help the arch in his back it forced, he Castiel’s clothed dicks rubbing together for a brief, heart-stopping moment.

Castiel reared back, falling onto Dean’s knees to catch his breath. Dean’s chest heaved, he licked his lips, and said nothing.

Castiel continued his exploration of Dean’s body with his tongue and teeth. Finding the spot at Dean’s neck that made him sigh, the crease in his elbow that made him jump, just the right distance from his nipple to make him whine, the right angle to bit at his hip from to make him give a breathy laugh. It was heady; too much and still not enough. When he eased Dean’s boxers from his hips, he was sure his heart was going to explode; he hadn’t realized he’d been holding his breath.

“You okay up there hoss?” Dean croaked out, shifting, wiggling his fingers.

Castiel nodded, before realizing that the response was missed. Instead of speaking, he ran his fingers up the inside of Dean’s thigh, gently smoothing the pad of his finger between his balls before wrapping his hand around his shaft.

Dean jerked, hissing. He was hyperaware of the sensation, after Castiel’s hesitant touches and kisses previously. Gentle fingers wrapped around him, pulling the skin on the upstroke, gently soothing it on the down stroke. A thumb pressed into the slit at the top and Dean was sure his eyes had rolled completely into his head.

Castiel watched the blood rush into Deans cock, gloriously attentive, free of any sort of distractions of hands or mouths. He gave it another tug, loving the slight arch in Dean’s back, the way his mouth fell open without a thought, his breathy sigh filling the room. He ran a gentle hand up Dean’s chest, watching the skin ripple in his path, to hook his thumb over Dean’s lower lip, swallowing pointlessly as spit-slick lips closed around the digit, sucking gently.

“ _Oh God_ ,” he gasped out. The display was nearly pornographic and he was dizzy from the sudden rush of blood away from his brain. He fell forward, intending to take Dean’s mouth with his own again, and their cocks brushed again and Dean let out a low, mind numbing groan.

He froze, unsure of where to move. This whole exercise was one of control and he was quickly spiraling beyond that. Dean was panting beneath him, his lips bitten bright red and his body was splayed out so _willingly_ beneath him.

Castiel was sure he’d never removed a pair of boxers so quickly before in his life. He lowered himself down over Dean, swallowing the moan with a sloppy kiss and a clash of teeth before his hips started moving. Within minutes, Dean was thrashing beneath him, begging between kisses.

“Cas, Cas, _Cas_. Please. I can’t-I need. _Please_.... I need to start least see you, babe. At least give me that." He struggled to say even those few words, his breath gasping from him painfully.

Ever so carefully, Castiel reached up and pulled the tie down from Dean's face, the fabric pooling at his neck. His green eyes were dark with list, pinning to Castiel. He licked his lips, watching the blue eyes follow the path.

Determinedly, he ground his hips down, watching Dean's eyes roll back and close, a breathless moan leaving him. Desire pooled low in his belly, and he thrust down, Dean’s hips starting to roll gently, trying to pick up some kind of rhythm, anything for more friction.

Dean managed to open his eyes again, and he had never been so happy to do so. Above him, Castiel was grinding down, their cocks rubbing together deliciously. His eyes were closed, and his head was thrown back; a vision of pure ecstasy. The smallest bead of sweat was making a path down his chest, towards the V of his hips.

Dean felt like he was on fire, heat engulfing every lust-frayed nerve within him. “Cas, I’m gonna-!”

Castiel peeled his eyes open, blue eyes locking with Dean’s before he rolled his hips once more, whispering, “ _Yes_ ,” Almost simultaneously, they painted Dean’s stomach with cum. Castiel bit his wrist to keep from crying out and Dean was sure he was about two more yanks before he broke his headboard.

Dean felt Castiel’s hands wrap around his shoulders in an attempt not to slump over him. “That was…” he started.

Castiel only nodded, slowly pushing himself back into an upright position. He reached over Dean and grabbed a wad of tissue, slowly dragging it over his chest and stomach, gently cleaning him.

“You know Cas,” Dean said. “This might be easier if you just untied me, you know that, right?” The cum was leaving a sticky trail down his chest and he was getting impatient with Castiel’s gentle ministrations.

“I like seeing you like this.” He didn’t meet Dean’s eyes, only continued his slow cleaning up, using a water bottle to help him finish the job.

“Tied up?” Dean’s dick gave a half-hearted twitch realizing that Castiel had likely gotten off on just being dominant alone.

“No. Well, yeah. Laid back. When I met you, you were so tough, always acting like you had to prove something to someone.  You always had your guard up. But when you’re like this...you’re beautiful.”

Dean wanted nothing more at that moment, than to disappear, to fade into his sheets and be invisible. Castiel was looking right through him and he’d be lying if he said it wasn’t the scariest thing ever. He closed his eyes and breathed in through his nose. “I don’t know what to say to that,” he finally whispered.

Castiel merely smiled, climbing off of him and loosening the tie around his wrists. “You don’t have to say anything,” he replied. Dean sat up, rubbing and rolling his wrists as Castiel turned around, searching for their boxers. He handed Dean’s to him, stepping into his own. “Anyways, we need to brush our teeth.”

Dean rolled his eyes and followed Castiel into the bathroom. They playfully fought over mirror and sink space, elbowing at each other and trying to stifle their laughter.

When they climbed into Dean's bed, they were a tangle of limbs and sleepy kisses. Castiel eased into the loop of Dean's arms, relaxing, wrapping their hands together. "Goodnight, Dean," he sighed quietly.

Dean pressed a gentle kiss to the back of his neck, right where his dark hair started curling up, his own eyes drooping. "Night, Cas."


	14. Chapter 14

New Years had come and gone by the time the state decided on a court date for Avery. Castiel had gone most of their winter break with the thought in the back of his mind, Dean doing his damndest to keep away anything at all triggering until Castiel reassured him that he was playing mother hen and it was goddamn suffocating.

They spent New Year’s Eve making out, half naked, in the backseat of the Impala, Castiel jolting away from their mind numbing kiss when fireworks exploded around them. Dean had merely grinned up at him, his blonde hair sexed-up, lips bruised from kissing, and said, “Happy new year’s babe.” That had earned him a few harder-to-hide hickies.

School picked back up with a vengeance, Castiel disappearing three nights a week to go kick ass at the dojo, Dean sometimes following to watch. He was seeing Gemma once a week, instead of twice and had been prescribed an anxiety medication that turned him into an irritable, hateful, wilted flower of a person. It made him snappy and sleepless, turning his head away from kisses, squirming from hugs. Dean was lost for a few short weeks.

February brought the disposal of those meds, a new prescription and a weird hope. They’d worked their way through another workbook and Castiel’s libido came roaring back after he’d been off the Lexapro for five days, tackling Dean into his bed, midnight bringing muffled moans and whispers, explorational touches and begging. Dean had rolled away from Castiel, eyes wide, reeling, trying to figure out if it was psychologically _okay_ for a person to swing so wildly between medications.

He’d called Gemma the next day, his question answered with a reassuring laugh.

Of course, all things that go up, must come down.

February thirteenth, Dean spent the entire time in class texting with Jo, clarifying that his plans for the next day weren’t too cheesy, but were enough to show just how much he lo- _ahem_ -cared for Castiel. Jo had caught his stutter and teased him endlessly for it, and so he resorted to only speaking to her via text message.

He burst into the dorm to find Castiel hunched over the table, crying into his arms, _sobbing_ , his shoulders heaving, odd wheezy sounds and whimpers escaping him, as though he wanted to scream but his lungs wouldn’t allow it.

For a split second, he froze. Really, it was a mere millisecond of complete, utter panic flooding him. It’d been so long since Castiel had truly not been even _okay_. He’d been talking to Dean about fighting triggers, meditation and how _free_ he was beginning to feel and Dean thought his heart would explode with sheer _gratitude_ of even having Castiel in his life.

He rushed forward, dropping his books and jacket on the floor, coming around so that Castiel could at least see him before he dared pull him into his arms. Castiel came willingly, turning so that he could sob into Dean’s neck. They sat that way for countless moments, Dean slowly rubbing between his shoulders, humming a Metallica song under his breath until Castiel finally shifted, let out a stuttering breath, and handed Dean a piece of paper.

The court date. They had finally decided on a date.

Castiel’s eyes were red and puffy when he met Dean’s. “What if they rule him not-guilty?” His voice was broken and wobbly. “What if-?”

Not even hesitating, Dean scooped him up, carrying him to the room, pausing for a moment before choosing his own bed to deposit Castiel and himself into. He wrapped Castiel up in blankets, tucking the pillows around his head before laying down next to him, face-to-face.

“I can’t answer that, Cas,” he said honestly. “But for what’s it worth, whatever happens, I’m here. All the way.”

“Till I fly?” he asked, his eyes darting away nervously.

Dean reached out and stroked a gentle finger over his cheek, smiling slightly. “Till you fly.”

* * *

 

Dean would be lying if he said he wasn’t scared shitless. The night before, after Castiel finally roused himself from his bed, they drove to the dojo and Dean watched him send his sparring partner to the floor hard enough to knock the wind out of the guy. His classmates were surprised and Dean was the only one who knew where the sudden burst of energy had come from, smiling proudly when Castiel reached a hand out to pull the other person up.

They’d broken their unspoken agreement, sharing a bed that night, dozing off amidst soft words and a slide of lips.

And now, Friday-Valentine’s Day- Dean sat perched on the edge of his bed, fretting. Had he gone overboard? They had never exactly spoken about making plans. He had no idea what Castiel was expecting, if he was expecting anything at all.

Castiel, on the other hand, was confused as all hell.

“They canceled my shift at the library today, I don’t get it! I need those hours,” he whined.

Balthazar looked at him from the corner of his eye. “They probably think all the kiddies will be too busy fucking to make a trip to the library today,” he let out a bark of laughter when Castiel immediately turned bright red.

He sighed, trying to scowl. “Do you think we ought to get started on that paper today?”

“It’s due at the end of the _semester_ , Cassy! Keep your pants on.”

This time, he truly did scowl. “You know, grad school is important to some of us,” he grumbled.

Balthazar laughed again. “Well then go let grad school be important _somewhere else_.”

Castiel frowned. They were outside Balthazar’s dorm, and he had made no move to open the door. “Are you...are you trying to get rid of me?” he asked, cocking his head to the side.

“Yes. Yes I am. Now shoo. I don’t want to hear from you until tomorrow.”

He left Castiel standing in the hallway, limply holding onto his backpack, confusion etched over all of his features.

When he opened the door to his own dorm, he was only confused even further. All of the lights were off, which couldn’t have been Dean, considering he was notorious for leaving them on all of the time. The whole apartment smelled...clean. Rather than the musk of two men living in one place, it smelled like too much Febreeze and Windex. And if he strained his ears just right, he could hear a song playing.

He walked towards their room, the words becoming clearer and a smile growing on his face. _Thank You_ , by Led Zeppelin, the song that Dean had made Castiel listen to over and over again until he could sing along to it. He gently nudged the door open to find Dean sitting on his (freshly made) bed, a huge box of chocolate resting in his lap.

Castiel froze. He and Dean had never discussed doing anything for Valentine’s Day together. He hadn’t outright thought of doing anything for Dean, just figured they might be able to do a little bit extra that night. Apparently, Dean had other plans. “I...uh, oh God I didn’t…” he stammered, setting his bag on his desk.

Dean only smiled at him, shushing him gently. “I didn’t want to do anything huge, but I wanted to do something so you know I do appreciate you and...and I’m glad I have you.” The words felt awkward on his tongue; too emotional for how he normally was. It was new and exciting. He stood up, holding out the box of chocolate. “I thought we could just have a quiet night in, you know? Order shitty food, watch shitty movies...have some awesome make out sessions?”

Castiel huffed out a laugh, toeing his shoes off. “Is this your way of telling me that you’re too broke to do anything extraneous?”

Dean only replied a grin that went ear to ear and a, “Yup. Does it work?”

Castiel very gently set the box of chocolates aside, scooting himself into Dean’s arms, pulling him closer, as though he wanted them to be one physical entity. He laid his head over Dean’s chest, feeling the heartbeat thudding steadily below his ear. “Yeah,” he breathed. “It works.”

They spent the evening watching movies on the sci-fi channel and feeding each other pieces of chocolate, until both of them eased to sleep, residual chocolate staining their mouths and fingertips.

The rest of February trickled through their fingertips, lazily and then all at once. Castiel’s flashbacks were few and far between and he spent too much time agonizing over whether or not the medication had caused it or if he was truly getting better. Unsure of what to do, Dean just kissed him silly until he was grappling at his shoulders, tearing his shirt off, shoving him to the bed.

March brought warmer days and anxiety attacks as Castiel’s court date grew closer. Dean did what he knew how to do, giving Castiel his space, tucking him in if he ended up asleep over his desk, writing yet another email to his lawyer. It was draining, seeing Castiel wound so tightly and being unable to do a damn thing about it. Old habits die hard, he knew that all too well. That, of course, was how he found himself at a party down the block from campus, his first in a few months.

The music was too loud, making his ears ache. Someone had set up an overworking fog machine, making the house seem dim and and the lights far too uncomfortable to look at for too long. Dean found himself nursing a beer, leaning lazily against the wall, closing his eyes, relishing in the feeling of being lost in a crowd, a feeling he hadn’t experienced since that first night with Castiel.

It was only when he felt a loose arm slide around his waist that he jolted out of his reverie. His eyes opened to see Michael, party-hopper extraordinaire, smiling lustily at him. “Where’ve you been, party boy?” he leered, his voice pitched low enough that only Dean could hear.

Dean can practically _hear_ the blood rushing to his head, a loud _whoosh_ of sound behind his ears, momentarily drowning out the music, his eyes meeting Michael’s dark ones. He froze, unsure of which direction he should go. Freaking out and punching the guy was a brilliant option, if he wanted to spend the night at the county jail.

“I’m uh,” he cleared his throat. “I’ve been busy.” _I didn’t come here to see you, dammit!_

Michael merely raised a cocky eyebrow, crowding ever closer to Dean. “Doing…?” the word rolled dangerously off of his tongue, taunting, a tease.

“I have a boyfriend,” he blurted.

The cocky eyebrow rose even further, and he pulled away only slightly, his fingertips trailing the small of Dean’s back. “Oh?”

“Yeah. So um. No more of...this.” _Whatever the fuck this_ was.

Michael only smirked. “Never been the homewrecker type, m’self,” he shrugged. “So you got one good taste of cock and decided you wanted to keep it, huh?”

Dean choked on his sip of beer. “What the fuck, man?” he gasped out, punching himself in the chest.

The smirk grew more pronounced. “Oh don’t even lie, party-boy. I know I wasn’t your first taste of it, but I was certainly the one who sealed the deal.”

Anger rose up in Dean, the urge to punch the guy in the face rearing up. He leaned in close, his face nearly touching Michael’s. “He fucks better than you ever could,” he hissed, before dropped what was left of his beer down his shirt and turning to walk away.

As he left the party, the lie burned on his tongue. He stalked back to his dorm, fumbling with his keys, muttering empty threats and angry words under his breath. As he opened the door, he wished he’d never said those words, wished he’d never risen to Michael’s bait and just ignored him.

He was even more upset when he walked into the room and Castiel blatantly ignored him. He remained hunched over his desk, angrily punching the keys on his laptop, another email on its way out.

Dean wanted to scream. The last two weeks had been hellacious, and it apparently wasn't going to get any better. "Cas?" he tentatively asked. "What's going on?"

Castiel finally whirled, unable to hold his tongue any longer. "How much do you fucking hate me?" he asked, his voice pained.

Dean back pedaled. "What? What the hell are you talking about?"

"You couldn't deal with me so you went off to another party so you could fuck that guy, didn't you?" The words were hysterical, he couldn't believe he was saying them.

Dean froze. How the hell was this is his life? "Cas, I went to a party because these last couple weeks have been stressful as _fuck_. I wanted to get out of the dorm for a night. You didn't do anything!"

Castiel stood unmoving, glaring at Dean, his fists clenching at his sides. "How do I know?" he finally whispered.

That was it for Dean. "Are you fucking kidding me? What have I done to you to make you think that? What the fuck have I done?" With every word, his voice grew louder. "I care about you Cas and you fucking know that and I _know_ you're under a lot of pressure but _don't_ take it out on me!" With that, he stalked into the living room, dropping heavily onto the couch.

Castiel stood in his room, shaking. He hadn’t meant it, he hadn’t meant any of it at all. He’d been nervous, and upset and his lawyer was driving him crazy, telling him countless “tips and tricks” to keep up in court and keep his head. It was driving him crazy. He’d had little to no time to spend with Dean, only a brief morning kiss and sometimes, a goodnight kiss.

And then, around nine o'clock, Dean had stood up, dropped a kiss on the top of his head and said, “I’ll be back later.” It was brief, it was sketchy and it had upset him beyond words. And then he had two and a half hours to sit and stew in the feeling.

Dean sat in the living room, staring at the blank TV screen. He palmed at his eyes, as though he could rub the anger from them, rub away the look of Castiel’s hurt when he’d walked back into the room. The night was slowly spiralling down the drain, out of his control. He groaned pathetically, hugging himself, wishing that he hadn’t just blown up at Castiel, wishing he had just hugged him, comforted him like he always did when things got miscommunicated. Instead, he was folding in on himself the way that he used to, the only thing he still knew how to do.

Moments later-at least it felt that way- Castiel came and joined him on the couch. His arms wrapped around Dean’s waist and he leaned into his chest. A breath passed between the two of them and Dean slowly brought his arms around Castiel, caressing his shoulder.

“I’m sorry,” Castiel murmured. “That wasn’t fair of me to say any of those things to you. I didn’t...I didn’t mean them.”

Dean had to fight not to roll his eyes. “So you just blurted those things out entirely unintentional? Really.”

Castiel sighed, closing his eyes. “I apologize for taking out my stress on you Dean. That was unfair of me to do to you. Do you forgive me?”

Dean bit his lip, breathing deeply. “Yeah. ‘Course I forgive you, Cas.”

“Good.” Castiel curled into Dean’s side, breathing him in, allowing himself to relax for the most part. “I’ve missed you.” His voice is muffled by Dean’s shirt.

Dean could only sigh, his arms tightening around Castiel. “God, I’ve missed you too.”

Castiel leaned up, moving over Dean’s body. Wide, trusting eyes met Dean’s before soft lips met his and his eyes fell shut. Just like that, the tenseness of the past two weeks faded away with a few well-timed nibbles on his lip and a muffled moan.

In an instant, Dean had Castiel pressed into the couch, a knee between his legs, kissing hungrily and relentlessly. Castiel relaxed beneath him in an instant, meeting his kisses with just as much fervor and enthusiasm. Dean felt as though he was unravelling in the best of ways and he couldn’t help but press against Castiel’s lean figure just a little bit more.

They ended their evening tangled up in Castiel’s sheets, Dean falling asleep while inhaling the light scent of Castiel, their arms loops together.

* * *

 

Two weeks later, Castiel found himself sitting in a courtroom, looking anywhere but at Avery and his lawyer. His voice shook when he spoke to the judge, but he plowed through, recounting the details of that horrifying night to the courtroom. He shakily took his rape kit results from his lawyer and presented them to the judge. When he turned back to go to his table, Dean caught his eye from the back, sending him a reassuring wink.

The verdict was fifteen years in jail for Avery, a bond set so high that no one would bother paying it to let the rapist out. He’d be on parole for another five years after that. Something in Castiel screamed, _not enough_! Not long enough. He had to be _dead_ , his existence cleaned from the Earth, purged from space and time.

Instead, when the court adjourned, Castiel ran to the back of the room, threw himself into Dean’s arms and sobbed. He didn’t turn when he heard the click of handcuffs descend on Avery, nor when he felt his mother’s hand rest over his shoulder. He pressed himself closer to Dean, trying to breathe in his very essence, allowing it to calm him.

Dean only gathered him closer, stroking his hands through his onyx hair, smoothing the frazzled strands that he’d managed to mess up during court. “It’s over Cas,” he murmured, pressing a kiss to his temple. “It’s over now.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I know that I said there would be one more chapter but with all of the time jumping I did, I decided to split it into two chapters. I hope you're all just as excited for the close of this as I am!!!


	15. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here you have it! The final chapter. Also, smut. I haven't eaten yet today to bring you this final chapter, so enjoy!!

It was July and Castiel was laying across Dean’s bed, shirtless, a book in hand. The sun glared through the window, bright and far too hot to combat the fan and air conditioning unit that Dean had hauled up the stairs in early June. He held a book close to his face, blinking sweat from his eyes incessantly, struggling to focus on the words on the page. It was something about managing, he knew that much, but his mind had checked out from it long ago.

Across the room, Dean groaned. He too, was shirtless, opting for only a pair of shorts that Castiel had coaxed onto him after he had nearly fainted in jeans the week before. He was sitting at his desk, attempting halfheartedly to clean up his resume. He peeled himself off of the chair, standing up. He turned to see Castiel stretched out over his bed, basketball shorts riding up toned thighs, the elastic loose around his slim waist, resting just below sharp hipbones, the same hipbones that Dean was sure he could spend days licking, biting and sucking.

“I am going to die,” he announced.

Castiel didn’t move, didn’t take his eyes off of his book. “No you are not, Dean,” he intoned.

Dean stomped his feet and waved his arms a little bit. “I most certainly fucking am. Maybe I’ll install a second air conditioner in here.”

“You’ll short circuit the whole house and imagine what Ellen would say when you have to tell her that.

Dean glared at him, which was entirely pointless, seeing that he still had the book in his face. “Let’s go outside.”

“You’ll need sunscreen.” Castiel still hadn’t budged, slowly turning the page.

Dean pointlessly glared again. “You need it more than me, whitey.”

“You love it.”

Dean grinned, finally walking over to Castiel and removing the book from his grasp. He leaned over him, moving closer. “I love _you_.” And then he caught Castiel’s lips in a gentle kiss, palms framing his head.

Castiel smiled gently. “I know.” The reference was one that he’d learned only recently and he loved to say it, watching Dean’s eyes light up. “C’mon. You’ve got SPF 70, right? I’ll need it.”

Dean snorted. “Duh.”

After a relatively heated and possibly intentionally sexual application of sunscreen on them both, they went outside, sitting down under the spray of the sprinkler, a beer in their hands, thumbs covering the mouths of the bottles. The cool water over their backs was refreshing, washing away the sweat and relieving the harsh glare of the sunshine.

Neither of them were sure how much time had passed. They didn’t talk much, just sat underneath the continuous rain of cool water, watching the sun move across the sky and clouds roll into view, the air around them growing heavier and darker, the sound of crickets and cicadas fading away.

“‘S probably going to rain soon,” Dean muttered, taking another drag of his beer.

Castiel shrugged, laying back in the damp grass. “Thank god,” he sighed. “It’s about time. Maybe it’ll finally cool down around here.”

Dean grunted, standing up, holding a hand out for Castiel. He grabbed it, but his hand was slippery from the condensation from their beer and the sprinkler. They fought for balance for a moment before Castiel slipped on his heels, sliding right by Dean and landing heavily on his rear.

There was a slight pause before Dean doubled over, shaking with laughter. Castiel was laying on his back, watching the looming storm clouds, mouth open in an ‘o’ of a surprise. He rolled over to his stomach, struggling to stand before shoving Dean to the ground. He grappled for balance almost comically before falling to his chest, his breath leaving him in an audible ‘oof!’

He glared up at Castiel, pushing himself back up, grass clippings decorating his chest. “That was totally unnecessary,” he huffed. Just as Castiel was opening his mouth to reply, a roll of thunder shook the ground beneath them. He scrambled upright. “Let’s get inside.”

As the storm really took hold, Dean and Castiel were in the bathroom, stripping off their damp shorts and stepping under a lukewarm spray of water in the shower together. Castiel shivered for a moment before Dean gathered him into his arms, pulling them flush together. Their skin was heated and slick and he gasped at the sensation. It wasn’t by any means their first shower together, but it definitely had to have been the most sexually tense.

Dean lathered up a washcloth with Castiel’s sandalwood soap (“It smells like trees” Dean had said. “It’s smells like nature and sunshine,” Castiel had retorted. “And you like it.”) and began to drag the cloth over his body. Electric green eyes met bright blue eyes, never breaking as the movements continued, the cloth rough on hypersensitive skin, leaving a small trail of bubbles in its wake. By the time that Dean was guiding Castiel under the cool stream of water, his dick was upright against his stomach, being blatantly ignored. When Dean passed him his own soap (“It makes me think of your car,” he’d sniffed disdainfully. “Yeah, ‘cause my car is manly. And I am too.”) and the rinsed cloth he could have cried.

The shower continued, slowly and quietly, passing soap and shampoo back and forth until an inadvertent shiver went up Castiel’s spine. Dean quickly reached behind himself, turning the water off and grabbing a towel to pull around his shoulders. He grabbed his own towel, opened his mouth to say something to his boyfriend-he wasn’t even sure what- and the lights went out, everything shutting down with a soft drone, the crackle of lightning in the distance, electricity in the air.

“Fuck,” Dean cursed under his breath, tightening his towel around his waist. “C’mon, let’s at least get some boxers on, we gotta go make sure everything’s off. Ellen will kill us if they come home and something’s blown.”

They shuffled awkwardly to Dean’s room, quickly drying off to slide boxers on themselves. Dean dug through his dresser and found a flashlight, clicking it on, the beam of light guiding them down the hall and down the stairs. “Just check the computers and stuff,” he said. “I’m gonna find some candles.”

He found Castiel back in his room fifteen minutes later, using his cell phone as a flashlight, attempting to shuffle through the mess on the floor. He only laughed, setting down his armful of candles around the room, lighting each one as he went. The room slowly began to light up with the soft glow of the candles, the flames throwing the light in different corners of the room. The shadows jumped every time that there was a crack of lightning outside.

Castiel sat gingerly on the edge of Dean’s bed, slowly rubbing the towel through his hair. “Now what?” he asked quietly.

Dean only shrugged. “We wait it out.” Another loud boom of thunder cracked overhead and Castiel jolted. Dean chuckled at him. “Are you scared?”

He glared at him. “No! It just caught me off guard.”

Dean gave him a lopsided grin. “Like this?” he leapt up, tackling Castiel to the bed, lightly pinning his hands by his head.

Castiel laughed, cocking his head. “I’m not quite sure that thunder has the ability to do that to me.”

“So thunder can’t do…this?” Dean lightly pressed his hips into Castiel’s, renewing the hunger that had grown during the shower, their eyes still locked, even as Castiel’s eyes fluttered slightly, losing focus.

“N-no, thunder can’t...d-do that,” he stuttered.

Dean smiled again, leaning closer. “Good,” he muttered. “I want to be the only one who gets to do that.”

Castiel gasped as Dean slid their hips together again. “You are,” he whispered back. “You’re the only one.”

Dean nipped lightly at the shell of Castiel's ear. "You have no idea the things I want to do to you," he murmured. "No clue. Showering with you will be the death of me one of these days."

Castiel was squirming beneath him, seeking some sort of friction, a reprieve from the building lust within his gut. "Show me," he breathed. “What do you want to do to me?”

Dean pulled back for a moment, a brief flash of lightning illuminating his features. Castiel’s eyes were dark and lustful, never once moving away from Dean. His face was alight with the same expression he’d seen ages ago, only months ago, every single time before they initiated something together. A subtle raise in his eyebrow, carefully parted lips, trained, focused eyes. And again, like every single time, Castiel nodded.

Dean gave him a small smile, leaning down to capture his lips again. He kissed Castiel breathless, leaving him moaning as he moved down to his neck, his collarbone, his nipples. By the time he reached his hipbone, he was absolutely writhing underneath Dean’s ministrations.

A short breath after Dean had freed Castiel from his boxers, a hand caught his wrist, right before his mouth had wrapped around his cock. He glanced up to see Castiel’s chest heaving as he struggled to breathe. “Today,” he finally said. “Tonight. Right now.”

The words were choppy and a roll of thunder had covered the last sentence, but Dean understood. He gave Castiel one last questioning look before crawling back over his body and reaching into his nightstand, pulling out a bottle of lube and a condom. He kissed Castiel again, gentle and yielding, allowing him to steal Dean’s tongue, sucking on it voraciously until Dean let out an absolutely _filthy_ groan into his mouth. He released him, giving a Dean a smirk.

Dean sat back over Castiel, allowing their cocks to brush precariously for a moment, watching the blue of his eyes disappear beneath half-lidded eyes. “You’re sure?” he finally murmured.

Castiel thrust up, their cocks smacking together obscenely, lightning lighting the room up momentarily as Dean threw his head back, hissing, fighting the urge to flip Castiel over and fuck him brainless into his bed. Fumbling with the lube, Dean quickly uncapped it, squeezing a generous amount onto his hand, smearing it between his fingers, warming it up before he slid a slick finger down behind Castiel’s balls. Castiel let out a strangled cry, trying to thrust down on the digit.

Dean soothed a hand over Castiel’s midsection, teasing his nipple for a moment, hushing him. “Patience, love,” he murmured. “I’ve got you.”

“I know you do, Dean,” he grit out, shining eyes glaring. “Now _do it_.”

Dean slid his finger further back, teasing at Castiel’s hole. The was a growl and suddenly a wet heat enveloped the digit. They let out a simultaneous gasp as thunder shook the house, the candlelight jumping about the room. Dean slowly moved his finger in and out, over and over until Castiel was keening.

He slipped in another slick finger, watching Castiel’s eyes roll back again, his hips bucking uselessly. He was gasping and Dean leaned down to kiss and lave at his hipbone. “Breathe, Cas,” he whispered. “You need to breathe, babe.”

Castiel let out an overdramatic release and inhale of breath and then moaned, his head thrashing to the side. “Dean,” he gasped. “You don’t even-I’ve been...I _want you_ ,” his voice was broken, absolutely and completely wrecked and it sent a bullet of heat straight to Dean’s groin.

Dean twisted and curled his fingers and Castiel cried out again. His vision had whited out, almost as though there was lightning just beneath his eyelids. “Dean, Dean,” he chanted. “Again!” Dean obliged and Castiel thought he was just going to shatter.

There was five more minutes of Dean stretching him, opening him, swallowing his moans with heated, sloppy kisses until he gasped out, “Dean, _now_.”

Again, he obliged, pulling his fingers out to rip open the condom, rolling it on, and then smearing it with even more lube, his slicked fingers shaking. Castiel had whimpered at the brief loss of contact, of not being full anymore until the head of Dean’s dick pressed up against his hole. In an instant he relaxed, relishing in the feel of the wet slide of Dean entering, inch by tantalizing inch. It seemed like it took forever for Dean to be fully hilted within him, balls pressed heavily against his ass.

Castiel looked up, taking it in. Dean was hunched over him, hands painfully tight on his his hips, his eyes squeezed shut, jaw clenched tight.

It was overbearing. That was all Dean could think. Sure, he’d had his fingers sucked in by Castiel’s tight heat countless times, but this? This was something entirely different. It was enveloping him, swallowing him whole, threatening to break the tedious cord of self control he was barely holding onto.

“Dean.” Castiel’s sex-wrecked voice from below him shook him from his reverie and he forced his eyes open to look at his lover. “Dean, let me ride you.” his voice was low, dangerous and Dean thought he’d come right then and there from that alone.

It was a strange tumble that they did, locking Dean inside of Castiel as they flipped themselves over. Suddenly, Castiel was leaned up over Dean, his palms flat on his chest, staring down with a look that screamed pure sex. His pupils were huge, swallowing the dark blue that Dean had fallen in love with and his lips were red and bruised.

Experimentally, almost hesitantly, Castiel lifted himself up, feeling the slide of Dean inside of him before falling back down. Dean bit his lip, his eyes going wide. “Oh God,” Castiel groaned. It was better than he could have expected, better than he’d dreamt of. Dean was _here_ filling him up _right now_.  He lifted himself again, and this time Dean met his thrust head on, both of them moaning, a crack of thunder drowning the sounds out.

It was only moments before they built up a rhythm together, thrusting, bouncing, the sound of skin on skin unheard beyond the thunderous sound of rain beating on the roof over their head.

Dean dug his heels into the mattress, bending his legs and suddenly Castiel surged forward, a moan falling from him. That was it. Right there, _again_! He forced himself back, up against Dean’s knees and set a most punishing pace, up and down, and up and Dean thought he would die between the look on Castiel’s face and the wet heat engulfing his dick. Castiel was sure he’d already died, he was bouncing over Dean, his dick rubbing right against his prostate, and he wasn’t sure if he was seeing stars, or if it was just the residual glow from flashes of lightning.

Dean couldn’t do much more than tangle his hands in the sheets beneath them, watching dazedly as Castiel rode him with abandon, blue eyes disappearing beneath heavy lids, a slick pink tongue moistening those delicious lips. He could feel his balls tightening, heat coiling tighter and tighter. Swallowing, he reached a shaking hand up between them, wrapping it around Castiel’s dick.

One pump, and then two, and Castiel let out a scream that fought with the thunder for dominance as he spilled over Dean’s hand and onto his chest. His ass had clenched and Dean’s eyes rolled back into his head and then he was coming again, mindlessly chanting, “ _Cas, Cas, Castiel,_ ”

It felt like hours before he was finally able to pull his eyes open again. Castiel was at his side, tracing patterns around his nipple, and then up by his collarbone. The candlelight illuminated the contours of his face, his cheekbones, those red lips. It was romantic and sexy and torturous all at once. “Jesus,” he breathed, and then winced, realizing he must have done more yelling than he’d thought. His throat was sore as hell.

Castiel only smiled at him. He had disposed of the condom while Dean had laid beneath him, blissed out and grinning goofily, eyes still shut. “Can we,” Dean swallowed. “When can we do that again?”

Castiel barked out a laugh, his head falling onto Dean’s shoulder. He pressed a kiss there before whispering conspiratorially, “How fast can you get it back up?”

Lightning flashed outside at the same time that a different kind of lightning lit up his insides and he thought he’d never get rid of the goofy, happy feeling in his chest.


End file.
